KOTOR, The Epic Journey: Trekkin' on Taris
by LikeCrimsonBloodshed
Summary: Nic/Revan and Carth crash onto Taris and have a blasty-blast. I'm writing through the whole game so R&R!
1. Chapter 1: Crash Landing

**Hello everyone! Once again time to continue the marvelous adventure of KOTOR here on Taris! I've been seeing the hit counts the Endar Spire one was getting and I'm very grateful for all the readings! Don't forget to leave your reviews as well so we can make this a great literary discussion!**

**So let us follow the great trials and tribulations of Nic/Revan on Taris without possessing any ownership of KOTOR. Huzzah!**

Murky shadows flowed, dilated, and spiraled out into the blackness as if they possessed a mind and will of their own, energies of pure darkness each with their own dark spirit.

Slowly the strands of shadow swirled to form a vague and distant image. Nic saw flashes of yellow and red as the picture came more into focus, quickly becoming more and more vivid with each passing second.

A room on a starship crossed his vision, with high, wide windows staring out into the bleakness of space surrounding the ship. The ship was very large, clearly the flagship of a fleet of some kind. The only things he saw inside it were two combatants, smashing their lightsabers against each other with deadly force.

A man and a woman, that was all. The man was clad in dark Sith robes with much of his face covered in a hood. They were different clothes than any he saw on the Sith aboard the Endar Spire.

He was doing battle with a woman….a Jedi? She was…well…stunningly beautiful. Her face, however, was screwed in lethal determination against her opponent. It was as if she lived for one objective and one only, to rid the universe of whatever evil this man had caused.

The swipes of her lightsaber were vicious but smooth. Her eyes never strayed from the Sith, seemingly calculating each angle from which to defeat him. Her mahogany pigtails spun in the air as she did, her every movement like the graceful flight of a swan. Nic found himself captivated by the image, but it did not stay long.

With one swift stroke the woman dispelled the Sith, slashing diagonally across his chest, ending the Sith's life before he could even cry out in pain.

But something else was strange about the dream. After she had dispatched her opponent, the Jedi woman looked onward, in front of her, standing poised, flexed, and at the ready. It was as if the battle was not over there, and yet a greater enemy still stood before her.

Before Nic had a chance to discern the meaning of it all, the shadows crept across his vision once again until her face was lost to the darkness.

He opened his eyes. A cacophony of blurs exploded in front of him, which probably would have sent him reeling if it wasn't for the fact that he was on a bed, a murkiness that seemed impermeable until he blinked a few times and shook his head hard.

"Good to see you up instead of thrashing about in your sleep. You must have been having one hell of a nightmare."

At first the words were a dull roar, pounding at his brain like a sledgehammer a few times before becoming a more clear man's voice. It was a voice he recognized, and suddenly the blurs shifted completely, turning into a dark ceiling above his head.

Nic sat up in bed and looked around, seeing a tall dark-haired man leaning against the opposite wall in the room, looking at him.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up."

Nic stared at the man in front of him for a moment, spacing out, his eyes focusing only on the two strands that fell over the man's forehead. He thought for a few seconds about how stupid that looked. Hadn't he ever heard of a comb?

He snapped out of it.

"Erm….yeah…" He said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Not really a nightmare so much as a….ah, never mind."

Carth arched an eyebrow. Clearly the man had been hit harder on the head than he thought. They had had quite a journey since their escape pod collided with the surface of Taris and he was forced to drag his companion's limp body into the nearest empty space he could find, which just happened to be this hotel room.

Either way, he thought it best to extend a safe reminder to his new friend.

"I'm Carth, one of the Republic soldiers from the Endar Spire. I was with you on the escape pod. Do you remember?"

Nic pressed a hand to his temple and nodded slowly.

"Yeah, Carth, I remember you….the guy with no sense of humor."

Carth exhaled. Yes. This was definitely the man he had traveled in the escape pod with. In their brief exchange Carth had become painfully aware that travels with this man, whoever he was, were going to be interesting to say the least.

"I'm Nic…by the way. Not sure if I ever told you. I was assigned to protect Bastile aboard the 'Spire…"

Nic shifted off the bed and placed his head in his hands.

"I had a strange dream, like a vision or something."

Carth chuckled. "I'm not surprised. You took a serious blow to the head. You're probably having all kinds of strange dreams. I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"You were slipping in and out of consciousness for a couple of days now. Try not to worry. We're safe, for the moment."

Carth gestured around the room.

"We're in an abandoned apartment on the planet of Taris. You were banged up pretty bad when our escape pod crashed, but lucky I wasn't seriously hurt."

Nic stood up slowly, wavering a bit as he did. Carth stood away from the wall and took a step forward.

"You OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine.."

Nic stood up straight and stretched, feeling the tightness in his muscles. Clearly he had been on that bed for a few days. He turned to Carth and shook his head again.

"So, what exactly happened after we crashed?"

"I was able to drag you away from our crash site in all the confusion, and I stumbled onto this place. By the time the Sith got to our pod we were already long gone."

Nic smiled tiredly, finally getting his bearings back. He nodded over to Carth.

"I guess I owe you my life. Thanks."

Carth brushed the thanks off.

"You don't have to thank me. I've never abandoned anyone on a mission, and I'm not about to start now. Besides, I'm gonna need your help…"

Nic arched his own eyebrow.

"My help? How?"

Carth walked over to the window in their room and stood in front of it, folding his hands behind his back and sighing.

"The planet we're on, Taris, is under Sith control. Their fleet is orbiting the planet. They've declared martial law and imposed a planet-wide quarantine."

Nic hung his head.

"So basically we're boned."

Carth laughed softly. He had to admit, having this kid's demeanor around made things a little easier. He turned toward him.

"Don't worry, I've been in worse spots."

Nic's head snapped back up, hopeful.

"You mean the Republic is sending someone in to get us? You have a beacon on you?"

Carth pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"There's no way the Republic will be able to get anyone through the Sith blockade to help us. We're on our own."

He pointed at Nic and began crossing the room.

"I saw on your service records that you're able to speak and understand a remarkable number of alien languages. That will really come in handy on this mission."

Nic stood up straighter. He could? He didn't remember putting that on his record…actually he didn't remember filling out his record at all. Damn, did the crash really hit his head that hard?

"Wait, hold on. What mission? I thought our goal was to get off this world and get back to the Republic at this point."

Carth shook his head.

"No. Bastila's still here. Somewhere. If we're going to find her and get out of here, we can't rely on anybody but ourselves."

The memories of Trask's death and the destruction of the Endar Spire all because of this Bastila came flooding back to Nic, and a bit of anger began to swell up in his stomach again.

"Yeah, remind me, why is it so important to find Bastila?"

Carth fixed him with a look like he had just spit on the dead corpse of his mother.

"That smack to your head did more damage than I thought! Bastila's a Jedi! She was with the strike team that killed Darth Revan, Malak's Sith Master."

Carth spread his arms out.

"She's the….key to the whole Republic war effort! That's why the Sith set an ambush for us on the Endar Spire!"

Carth blew out a breath and tried to calm himself. He could tell by the look on his new companion's face that getting flustered wasn't going to get them anywhere.

"Look, I believe Bastila was on one of the escape pods that crashed down here on Taris. For the sake of the Republic war effort, we have to try and find her."

Nic let a few seconds of silence hang in the air before shrugging and trying to make his case.

"I just don't get it. How can one person, even a Jedi, be so important?"

Carth nodded toward him, acknowledging his point, but when he opened his mouth again, Nic knew he was in for another earful about this kriffing Jedi.

"Bastila's no ordinary Jedi. She has a rare gift the Jedi call Battle Meditation. Bastila's power can influence entire armies!"

Nic scoffed and took a few steps toward him.

"OK, Carth. Now you're pulling my leg. No one's strong enough to take down an entire army single-handedly! I don't care how strong she is."

Carth waved his hand, as if brushing the comment aside and continuing.

"You didn't let me finish. Through the Force Bastila can inspire her allies with confidence and make her enemies lose their will to fight. Often, that's all it takes to tip the balance in a battle."

Nic stared a Carth for a moment, then whistled low, placing both his hands behind his head. This was blowing his mind. He knew there was a reason why he was placed into the protection of the Jedi, but after everything he had been through and all the death he had seen on the Endar Spire, he had begun to doubt if one person was worth all of that.

But if what Carth was saying was true….Nic was beginning to understand the stakes after all.

"Wow…seriously?"

Carth nodded fervently.

"Bastila's going to need our help. Many of Darth Malak's followers can use the dark side of the Force, but nobody will be looking for a couple of common soldiers like us. We can move about the planet without attracting notice."

Nic thought for a moment as Carth looked at him expectantly. He knew that if it meant getting off this planet and helping the Republic, then finding and rescuing Bastila was the way to do it. He only hoped it would be worth all the lives that were lost to get to her.

"Alright, Carth. You're right. Any idea where we should start looking for her?"

Carth smiled at him, nodded and took a few steps toward the door.

"While you were out I did some scouting around. There's reports of a couple escape pods crashing down into the Undercity. That might be a good place to start. But it'll be dangerous down there. We have to be prepared."

Nic smiled crookedly.

"Well, the sooner we start looking for Bastila, the sooner we find her. Let's go."

Carth's smiled turned wider, getting caught up in the newfound enthusiasm of his new friend.

"Alright soldier, let's move out."

After the both of them went through the footlockers and any other containers they could find for supplies, Nic strapped the vibroblade right on his back again and stuffed his blaster into the holster on his hip.

Then the two of them exited out the door of the apartment, and Nic jumped slightly at the sound of a blaster being fired over to his right. He looked over to see a man in a gray uniform flanked by two assault droids staring down two defenseless aliens.

"OK you alien scum, everybody get up against the wall! This is a raid!"

Nic had seen that uniform before. This man was a Sith, and already Nic could feel the blood within him begin to boil.

One of the aliens defiantly spoke up against his attacker.

[There was a patrol here just yesterday, and they found nothing! Why do you Sith keep bothering us?]

The Sith whipped out a blaster rifle and expertly shot the alien down at close range, and white hot rage exploded inside Nic.

But before he could yell anything, the Sith already turned and spotted him and Carth.

"What's this? Humans hiding out with aliens? They're Republic fugitives! Attack!"

Nic turned to Carth, who had already drawn his blasters and looked at him, ready to go.

"I can tell working with you is gonna be FUN!"

Nic drew his vibroblade.


	2. Chapter 2: Information Over Drinks

"I think you had her. You just let it get away from you."

"Don't patronize me."

Nic felt like his head was on fire….and pretty much every other part of his body. He had a black eye, bruises on his arms and legs, and he was sure one of his ribs had to be at least a little cracked. He was currently being supported by Carth with one arm slung across his shoulders.

Admittedly, that could have gone better.

Carth led him into the main, circular room of the cantina in Upper Taris. They had already had their fair share of misadventures on the sprawling city-planet, ranging from their first confrontation with the Sith in the hotel to muggers to doctors to drunks. Nic had managed to stay relatively uninjured throughout all of that, until now.

Now he needed a bag of ice the size of the planet they were on.

"I should have known better," Nic grunted, wanting nothing more than to sit down. "I went into a grudge-match with a woman named Ice."

He winced as Carth adjusted the arm on his shoulders.

"That's like….playing Pazaak with a guy named Tex. You won't win."

"You think you might be ready to go again tomorrow?"

"Mphh. No. The Stranger's fighting days are done."

Nic smiled ruefully and shook his head. He hadn't picked the name "The Mysterious Stranger", but he had thought it wise to not give out his real name in case the Sith had it on file. He knew they would have Carth's.

The bottom line was this: He and Carth needed to find Bastila, and the only lead they had was that her escape pod may have crashed somewhere in the Lower City. That would be simple enough to find if the only way down there wasn't an elevator guarded by an armored Sith, demanding the right papers.

Which neither of them had. So they had been scouring what felt like the entire world to find ways of coming up with enough money to bribe a mercenary to take them down there without the Sith's notice.

That's why Nic had entered this dueling tournament. He had taken down Deadeye Duncan with relative ease. He was an old man for kriff's sake. But after everything they had been through so far, Nic never saw the ferocity with which Ice fought coming.

And he was now paying for it dearly.

Nic let Carth slowly guide him to a bar stool by the counter. He gingerly sat down on it, and Carth stood across from him, rolling his shoulders. Nic smiled tiredly up at the man he had been traveling with.

"I honestly thought I would last longer than that."

"Me too….so I guess we're back to square one."

"Kriffing great."

"How much money have we got, then?"

Nic scoffed and lolled his head up to meet Carth's gaze.

"You already know the answer to that, Carth. Not enough to sway even the most desperate merc."

Carth blew out an exasperated breath and held a hand to his forehead. He shut his eyes tight, blew another breath out and looked up at the ceiling. Not even the loud, pulsing bass in the cantina could disguise his next soft-spoken sentence.

"Well, we would have had more….but it wound up in that old man's pocketbook."

Nic's eyes widened. Did he actually just hear that? His next words were spoken more harshly.

"You're seriously gonna knock me for that? I did a good thing! If I hadn't helped him out, the Exchange was gonna string him up, or worse. What kind of Republic soldiers would we be if we hadn't given him a hand?"

Carth immediately held up both hands, already regretting what he said. He had always told himself to watch his temper during tense situations. He guessed this time it just bubbled over….again. He knew that if the two of them were to survive and get back to the Republic, they were going to have to work together and try their best not to piss each other off.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make a snap judgment."

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry. What you did was generous. Hell, for all intents and purposes, it was the right thing to do. I just don't think it was the right thing for us right now, in our condition."

Nic shrugged.

"Fair enough."

"It's just that the situation isn't getting any better, fast. Bastila is out there, and for all we know she could be captured. The Sith could be torturing her for information on the Republic as we speak. We need a way to get down to the Lower City now."

Nic threw out his arms. "You think I don't know that? I understand how important the mission is, and I want to get it done too. The sooner we find this Jedi, the sooner we can get out of here and be free of the Sith. But unless you were planning on crapping out money anytime soon, we don't have a whole lot of options here."

"Oh, crapping? Really? What are we, five?"

"Could've fooled me with the way you've been griping since we left the apartments."

Nic stared coldly ahead at Carth. This was getting on his last nerve. Frankly, he was already peeved that they were risking their lives for some Jedi woman neither of them had ever met before, but they were no closer to getting any leads on her after hours of searching.

They had one, the Lower City, and the Sith had that pretty well locked down.

He had already taken a humiliating beating for this Bastila. All he knew was that she better be damn important to the Republic war effort.

He hung his head.

"Sorry, Carth. Really."

Carth held up a hand.

"It's fine. Obviously we needed to say those things to get them off our chests. Better now than later."

He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes and blowing a tired breath out.

"Let's just….lay everything out. Make sure we're considering all our options."

Nic placed an elbow on the bar and rested his head in his palm, wincing as his sore joints rearranged.

"We don't have the papers to get down past the Sith guard, and we don't have the credits to hire someone to take us down the illegal way. So….that leaves us with one more lead to Bastila than we had when we crashed….and absolutely no means to get to it."

Nic's head lolled over to face the bottles of alcohol stacked and lining the wall of the bar, tempted to hit one of those, hard.

"In other words, we're kriffed."

"We can't be, damnit," Carth growled. "Bastila is the key to the Republic's victory over the Sith. Our mission is the most important thing to the galaxy right now."

Carth wanted to pull his hair out. He was so used to being in control, in command. He had had to shoulder the weight of responsibility and accountability for others as a commander his entire life. But in this situation he felt like a bumbling idiot, grabbing at lines that weren't there. They wouldn't be there until they found Bastila.

"There has to be some way to sneak past the Sith….or at least find an angle with them that would get us down there."

Nic sighed, blowing it out in one stream from his nose. He allowed his eyes to wander the cantina, absent-mindedly searching for anything that would help them, as if the answer were somewhere right in front of them.

And then, right in front of him, he found something that could be the lead they'd been looking for.  
A woman in light grey robes across from them was hitting back a few drinks, seemingly trying to unwind. Nic didn't know what it was, but every time he looked at her, it was like a tiny little string was drawing him to her. Not in a romantic sense or anything, hell the feeling wasn't even sensual.

It was like a tiny voice in the back of his head, like a sense, was telling him to go over and talk to her, as if she would be a way for them to get another lead on Bastila and get off this rock that much quicker.

It was the same instinct he had felt on the Endar Spire, but that was when they were being assaulted by dozens of Sith troopers. Still, the instinct had never let him down on that ship, so maybe he should try listening to it again this time around.

"Hang on," Nic said, grabbing Carth's shoulder and using it hoist himself back up. "I think I might have our lead."

"What? Where?"

Nic shushed him.

"Just….go somewhere, and chill out for a few minutes. Give me time to work. I'm gonna go get a drink."

"What? You getting drunk is what's going to help us? I don't think so."

Nic fixed Carth with a derisive look.

"Carth, just trust me. I have a really good feeling this plan will work. Just go with it. What else have we got to lose?"

Carth just stared at his companion, shook his head and started off over to another corner of the cantina were there were seats. He wasn't sure what Nic was babbling on about, but at this moment he was so frustrated that a part of him didn't even care.

Nic watched Carth leave only a moment and then shook his head. He really needed to learn to trust him more. Nic stood up straighter, did his best to put on a game face, ignoring the pain, and casually strolled over to the woman at the bar.

"Hey there," he tried to put on his winningest smile.

The woman with the carrot-red hair looked over at him and softly nodded, greeting him but clearly keeping her guard up. Nic wasn't surprised what with all the low-lifes here.

"Hello."

Alright. He had an in. Now to amp up the charming guy routine and see where this little instinct was leading him.

"Listen," Nic leaned his elbows on the bar, trying not to wince as he did so. "I don't know if you've noticed, but on the way over here, I spotted at least six different guys here staring a little too long at your figure."

Nic saw just a bit of color flash on the woman's cheeks, and then quickly turn back to the bar.

"Flattering and frightening all at the same time," she said softly. "But I suppose it's to be expected in a place like this."

Nic nodded at her understandingly, smiling all the while.

"I was just coming over here to offer my services in case you wanted any of them roughed up for ya."

That got a small giggle out of the woman, and Nic was growing more confident. Maybe he could actually pull this off after all.

"Thank you, but no. I appreciate it though."

She turned more toward him.

"I haven't seen you around before."

"I guess you could say I'm new in town. I lose track of time after wandering for so long."

Nic tapped the bar's surface with his knuckles, pretending icy-hot pain wasn't shooting up his arm as a result of it.

"Barkeep! Two Sarlacc Kickers, if you please!"

The woman smiled again as the two glasses filled with the clear red liquid were placed in front of them.

"Thank you," she said before taking a sip and sighing. "Of course, they don't give us Sith officers from the military base much time off."

Nic suppressed the reflex to spit out his drink when she spoke. A Sith officer? That little instinct had guided him to an actual Sith officer. Maybe this was the in he and Carth were needing. But he had to be sure.

"You're from the military base? You don't look like one of the Sith."

"I'm off-duty right now, so I'm not in uniform."

She took another drink from the kicker and held out her hand to him.

"My name is Sarna, junior officer first class with the Sith occupation force."

Nic grew more and more excited as this conversation went on, but he did his best to hide it in a mask of neutrality, and he was surprised to find out how good he was at that. He reached out his own hand and shook hers.

"Nice to meet you, Sarna. I'm Nic."

Sarna smiled at him again.

"I'm actually a little surprised you're talking to me at all."

She looked down and took a moment to finish her drink.

"Most of the people here on Taris can't stand us Sith. It can make this job pretty lonely."

Another in, and a chance for him to swoop in and gain her confidence. He knew he couldn't mess this up. After all, he and Carth were working with virtually nothing here.

Carth was watching the entire exchange from across the room at a table. He found himself quite curious to find out what his friend was doing, and if it would help them at all. He couldn't tell if Nic was just trying to gather information….or trying to get lucky. Carth whispered a silent prayer for the second reason.

Nic swigged down the last of his own kicker.

"You're just doing your job, right? I don't hold that against you."

Sarna thought for a moment, and then shrugged.

"That's true, but people don't appreciate what we've done for them. We could have slapped a curfew on this whole planet but we didn't."

Sensing a rant coming on, Nic just stood back and focused his intent on her face as she spoke.

"You know, it's like everyone on this backwater planet is in a permanent bad mood. Don't they know we have to make the best of things?"

Nic nodded.

"You've got a pretty positive attitude."

Sarna smiled wide and placed her hand on his shoulder playfully.

"Exactly! It's all about attitude. I didn't asked to assigned to his backwater planet, but I try to make the best of it!"

She let her hand fall and looked at him, smiling again before turning toward the bar, placing her elbows on it and folding her hands under her chin.

"It's pretty easy to get depressed on an assignment like this, but we do what we can to keep our spirits up."

Nic didn't understand why, but the instinct seemingly guided his hand to be placed on her shoulder, even though every muscle in his arm screamed at the stretching.

"You need to blow off steam once in a while."

Sarna looked at his hand, smiled and nodded, turning back to him.

"That's true. It's nice to meet someone who understands what I'm going through. It's good to talk about this stuff – it gets pretty lonely up at the military base."

Sarna looked down at her watch, and her eyebrows popped up. She quickly looked back up at Nic.

"I have to get going soon, I've got a shift at the military base."

She paused, but then continued.

"But some of us junior Sith officers are having a party tonight to blow off some steam."

She then took a step toward him, and Nic could hear the slight bit of huskiness in her voice.

Now there was a sensual draw.

"I'd really like to see you again," she said, smiling up at him. "Why don't you drop by the party? If you have a map, I'll show you where it is."

Nic, without hesitation, and almost too excitedly with this lead they've been waiting for, took out his map and placed it on the bar. Sarna marked the area. Nic smiled.

"Sounds good. I'll be there," he said.

She smiled and began walking away from him, but stopped when she was behind him and turned around.

"Don't be late. We're starting right after our shifts end. Most of us won't even be going back to the base to lock up our uniforms. I look forward to seeing you there."

Sarna winked at him and headed out. Nic waited until just the right moment she out of sight, and then slumped onto the bar stool, immediately pressing the glass of his ice to his head.

"Ohhhhh…."

That performance put up more pain in his body than he anticipated, and the charade of pretending his body wasn't screaming made it even harder. Nic closed his eyes and only heard Carth's voice suddenly appear at his side.

"What happened? Who is she?"

"Shhhhh."

Nic held up a finger to Carth.

"I'm trying to take this glass of ice home with me. You'll scare it away."

Carth scoffed. "Did you learn anything or were you just trying to get laid?"

At that, Nic set the glass down and looked at Carth.

"That woman happened to be a junior Sith officer off-duty. I managed to sweet talk her into trusting me. Take a look at that map."

He pointed to where Sarna marked on it and Carth peered over at it.

"That's where she said she and a bunch of other officers are having a party tonight. They're coming right from work and won't even lock up their uniforms."

Carth's eyes grew wide as recognition dawned on him.

"So Sith will be there, with their uniforms..."

"And they're going to drink. Probably a lot."

Carth smiled excitedly.

"So who's to say one of them doesn't drink themselves into passing out, and we steal their uniform? Hell, we could get the whole place drunk and take the lot!"

Nic arched an eyebrow.

"Wow, Carth. Republic soldier's got a bit of a devious streak, I see."

Carth brushed it off jokingly.

"I wasn't always straightforward in my career. Sometimes you have to get a little dirty to get the job done."

Nic smiled.

"Reeeaaallly? I'd love to hear those stories."

"Maybe I'll tell you some….when you're grown-up and can understand."

Nic gave a tired laugh and pressed the glass tighter to his forehead.

"Shut up."


	3. Chapter 3: Calm Before The Party

The sprawling luminescent city scape stretched on as far as any of its occupants could see. The sunlight glared off the shining tops of every tower on Taris as it began to set.

With all the bustling activity on the surface below, in the grand scheme of things it would have been easy not to spot the two Republic soldiers walking toward the apartments they were looking for.

Nic pulled his brown leather vest over his chest and brushed off whatever dust from the crash that still remained. He ran his hands up to his short brown hair that fell over his forehead. Satisfied, he turned over to his companion.

Carth hadn't spoken a word since they left the cantina. His eyes remained fixed and unwavering in front of them as they walked. The two strands of his hair over his forehead bounced slightly with each step. He seemed to be walking in a robot-like trance.

Nic decided to shake him from it.

"You know, you could at least TRY to relax. We're going to a party after all."

Carth shook his head for a moment and then cast a dubious look over at Nic.

"A party full of drunken, trigger-happy Sith who would love nothing more than to turn in a couple Republic soldiers and get promoted off this rock. But you're right. I don't know what I was thinking, being so uptight."

There wasn't even an attempt on Carth's part to hide the sarcasm in his voice, which was probably what ticked Nic off in that moment.

"You wanna reach into your magical bag of better plans and enlighten me, Carth?"

Carth blew out a sigh and hung his head again. There he was going off on his companion when he had no right to, again. He silently wondered if this was how it was going to be with Nic the entire way off Taris. He certainly hoped it wouldn't be.

But then again, he knew that if he wanted things to improve, the first step started with his attitude.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be edgy."

Carth turned toward Nic.

"I've actually got a lot to thank you for, getting us this lead. I still don't know how you did it, but somehow you managed to be in just the right place at just the right time."

"You're telling me."

Nic pondered for a moment as they walked. His thoughts never strayed for too long on that feeling he got back in the cantina, the same feeling he'd had on the 'Spire. It was like this guiding instinct in the back of his head that was there to help him. It felt faint at times and then stronger in other times. It always seemed to be there when he needed it. It was so puzzling.

But, either way, it was done and they still had a job to do, which prompted Nic to turn to Carth as they walked together across a shining metal bridge stretching over an infinite chasm leading down to the bottom of whatever surface this planet had.

"Why are you so uptight all the time, Carth?"

That got Carth's attention.

"Wh…what?"

"I was just thinking, since I know we're gonna be working together until we find Bastila and get her off this world, that I really don't know that much about you, Carth."

Nic shrugged as they walked on.

"I'd like to know more about you."

Carth almost stopped in his tracks. The request took him off-guard. He was so used to plodding along in this mission that he never realized that he and Nic hadn't exchanged many words on each other since they crashed. The mission was always at the forefront of his mind, but in this moment there was a lull, and Carth wasn't used to that.

"Me? Well, I've been a star-pilot for the Republic for years. I've seen more than my share of wars….I fought in the Mandalorian Wars before all this started."

Carth paused to shake his head before continuing.

"But with all that, I've never experienced anything like the slaughter these Sith animals can unleash. Not even the Mandalorians were that senseless."

Carth bit his tongue and looked up to the sky for a moment. This whole talking about himself thing was making him feel insanely uncomfortable, but then again he felt he owed it to Nic to keep going. After everything they've been through together, the least he could do is go on more.

"My home world was one of the first planets to fall to Malak's fleet. The Sith bombed it into submission, and there wasn't a damn thing our Republic forces could do to stop them…"

Carth fell silent, and Nic felt instantly guilty for making his comrade recall a painful memory.

"I'm sorry, Carth. This must be very painful for you."

Carth brushed the comment off, speaking hurriedly.

"I'm just a soldier. I go where the fleet Admirals tell me to. I follow my orders and I do my duty. It just…"

Carth sighed and threw up his hands as they finished crossing the bridge.

"It doesn't seem right that doing that means I failed them. I didn't!"

That outburst out of Carth drew a few eyes over to the two of them. Nic looked around apprehensively before lowering his voice.

"Them? Do you mean the people of your home world?"

"Yes. No….no, that's not what I mean. I mean…."

Carth finally shook his head again and gave up. Nic arched an eyebrow, his mind trying to wrap around what Carth was trying to say.

"I'm sorry. I'm not making much sense, am I?"

Carth gestured toward him.

"You probably mean well with your questions . I'm just not accustomed to talking about my past very much. At all, actually."

And with that, Carth turned facing forward ahead of them once again.

"I'm more used to taking action, keeping my mind focused on the business at hand. So let's just do that."

Nic looked for a few moments at Carth's face, screwed in concentration on the path ahead of them, never turning. There was something he wasn't telling him, of that Nic was sure. But he was also sure that now probably wasn't the best time to pry about it.

Still, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his curiosity in check forever. He would end up asking more questions later, hopefully discovering more about the man he was traveling with.

"Alright."

The two of them continued on in silence the rest of the way to the apartments.

"You're honestly worrying that much? If they're drunk, we can handle them."

"That I'm not so sure about."

Nic and Carth had finally begun talking again as they walked through the halls to the room Sarna had pointed out on Nic's map. The hallway wound around in a circle. The sun was just about down, painting the Tarisian sky a brilliant mix of orange, red, and pink through the large windows to their left. Soon they would be operating under the cover of night, which is exactly what the two of them were hoping for.

"I'm just saying we need to be on our guard at all times," Carth told his comrade. "The last thing we want is to draw a firefight and get killed, or worse, captured and interrogated by Malak."

Carth's next words grew so soft they were barely audible.

"With my luck, we'll be brought straight to the Sith Master if we're captured."

"And why is that?"

Carth realized he hinted at too much. His history with one of the Sith fleet's most high Admirals didn't need to be brought up right now. Not here, not now, and definitely not with Nic.

"Nothing. I just don't want a chance to have to deal with whatever torture those Sith animals would use. I've heard some grim stories about the Dark Jedi interrogation techniques."

Carth faced back forward, almost speaking aloud to himself.

"They say the Force can do terrible things to a mind. It can wipe away your memories and destroy your very identity."

Nic turned toward him, almost not believing what he was hearing.

"Come off it, Carth. You mean to tell me that this power Jedi and Sith have can actually…re-program a person? Make them completely different?"

Carth nodded grimly as they continued.

"If Bastila can influence the minds of entire armies, I wouldn't put anything past the Force."

Nic shook his head as they passed a cleaning droid emitting mechanical whirrs as it vacuumed the hall. He wasn't even sure what this Force was, but he knew it didn't sound like something any human being should be wielding if it was that dangerous.

"No one man should have that kind of power, Carth. It would corrupt him in no time at all. No wonder Malak's so twisted."

Carth chuckled sardonically before turning back to Nic.

"You think he's bad? Every Sith has his master, and Malak's was as evil as they come."

Nic nodded slowly, remembering.

"Yeah…that guy you were talking about…what was his name….Rivert?"

"Revan," Carth corrected. "But he's already been taken out of the picture by Bastila and her strike team, so I guess Malak's taken the reigns of the Sith armies."  
The two of them stopped in front of the door of the party. Loud muffled music could be heard booming on the other side. Nic turned to Carth.

"So, find Malak, kill Malak, end the Sith. Piece of cake."

Carth couldn't help but chuckle but shook his head all the same.

"If only it were that easy."

Carth cast a foreboding look at the door.

"We shouldn't be here. The Sith will capture us for sure."

Nic blew out an exasperated breath and laid his forehead in his hand, kneading his brows together.

"OK, Carth, if you reject any more of my plans, I'm gonna sell you for credits. Don't think I haven't thought about it."

He reached out and gave Carth a brisk pat on the back.

"Don't worry, let's just get these uniforms and be one step closer to Bastila. Now come on, let's crash this party."


	4. Chapter 4: Dude, Where's My Ale?

**A/N: I am really excited to write this new chapter, my fellow KOTOR-heads. Haven't gotten many reviews from everyone except from a few, which I was very grateful to hear they liked it. Please review as it lets me know what you think and where I might take the story next. Anywhoo, now Nic/Revan and Carth have to navigate through a wild Sith party to get closer to Bastila! Misadventures engage! -LCB**

The large metal door to the party slid open, and the music came blasting forth from inside, no longer held back. Nic and Carth were immediately barraged by pumping, rhythmic bass and flashes of different colored lights filling the room in front of them.

What could only amount to dozens of off-duty Sith officers stood in front of them, some still wearing their metallic Sith armor with their helmets off. Clearly, many of these Sith had just come from their shifts as Sarna had informed Nic earlier.

Nic turned to Carth and smiled crookedly.

"Just try to keep up, old man, and don't cramp my style."

Carth scoffed but before he could offer a rebuttal, Nic had already turned forward and craned his neck for any sign of Sarna. Luckily, he didn't have to search long before he saw the redhead spot him and wave him in. Nic looked back at Carth and gestured with his head. The two entered the room, making a beeline over to where Sarna stood with several other Sith men around her.

"Hey, you made it!" she half-shouted excitedly over the din of the tunes. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show!"

Nic shined the winningest he smile he could muster once again.

"Like I'd pass up any chance to party and unwind! Thanks again for inviting me."

Nic looked back and took a step to the side, allowing Carth a space to stand in the circle.

"Hope you don't mind I brought a friend."

"Not at all!" Sarna exclaimed. "The more the merrier! I'm Sarna." She held out her hand to Carth. Nic's eyes shot over to Carth's face, and he could tell the conflict the man was experiencing as he only stared at the Sith's empty palm for a few seconds before shaking it.

"Nice to meet you, Sarna," Carth managed. "I'm...Dan."

Nic suppressed a laugh, passing it off as a cough. Carth shot him a glare as Sarna gestured to the three Sith men beside her, introducing them.

"This is Nool, Razz, and Gaunt. Boys, this is Nic, the one I met at the cantina that I told you about earlier."

The three of them, Nic, and Carth all exchanged handshakes and muttered one-word greetings. Sarna then pushed a glass of some sort of dark red wine into Nic's hand.

"You have to try this Tarisian ale. It's fantastic! We should have conquered this planet ages ago!" Sarna laughed and then took another sip from her own glass.

"Careful, Sarna," the one Nic had learned was Razz said. "That wine's got quite the kick. A couple more bottles and we'll all be passed out on the floor!"

"Who cares?" Sarna shouted. "We're not on duty tomorrow. Let's live a little!"

She handed Razz a glass of ale.

"Come on, drink up!"

Razz held up a hand.

"I'd really rather not. I was, after all, intending to get home on my own account tonight."

Nic frowned in the circle. He knew his and Carth's plan would be all for naught unless these Sith, all of these Sith, started drinking a hell of a lot pretty damn quick. If they were going to get these uniforms and be down at the Lower City elevator by daybreak, they would need to work fast.

And dirty, Nic thought, smiling evilly. To get people drinking, he knew he needed to invoke the age-old unstoppable force behind nearly every bad decision a person made in their life.

Peer pressure.

"Yeah, come on Razz!" He chimed in. "Don't be a stick in the mud. You can just crash here for the night and have the day off tomorrow to recover!"

Nool and Gaunt smiled lightly as he said this, seeming to catch on to Nic's way of thinking as they both grabbed new glasses of ale from the laden table next to them. Razz still held firm, crossing his arms in front of Nic.

"No, thank you. Bunk on the floor with everyone else? Disgusting."

_Sheesh_, Nic thought. _What a buzzkill_. He needed to think fast. He needed to come up with something now, and he couldn't believe the first idea that came to his head. He believed it to be absolutely idiotic and prone to failure, but he would try anything at this point.

Moving quickly, he turned his face up toward the ceiling, put on his widest eyes and most dramatic expression, and pointed to the ceiling.

"Holy Kriff! Look at that!"

That drew every face up to where he was pointing, including Carth's, against his better judgment. Most importantly, it drew Razz'shead up, which was all Nic needed. In one swift motion, Nic set his glass back on the table, grabbed a bottle of ale, stepped forward and stuck the bottle into Razz's open mouth.

Razz's eyes shot open. He had no choice but to grab the bottom of the upturned bottle and begin swallowing quickly to keep from choking as the ale poured down his throat. Nic smiled, watching his plan come to fruition as Razz swallowed again and again until he could take no more, his eyes rolling up into his head. He fell on his back with the bottle spraying wine on the carpet around him. He just lied there, groaning from the surge of alcohol into his bloodstream.

The first casualty of the night.

Unfortunately, that incident seemed to halt everything else in the room as the music stopped and every eye was turned on their group. Nic looked from left to right as the silence carried on. He then did the only thing he could think of. He pumped both his fists in the air and yelled.

"YYYEEEAAAAHHHH!"

Soon that yell was echoed throughout the room like a drunken war cry as the music spurred on. Nic grabbed more glasses and placed them in every hand nearest to him, in Nool's, Gaunt's, accidentally putting one in Carth's, before putting another in Sarna's, who was laughing and blushing.

Carth looked down at his glass insultingly before tossing the ale into the pot of the nearest plant. He grabbed Nic's shoulder and whirled him around.

"What the hell are you doing, causing a scene like that? We could have been found out!"

Nic rolled his eyes and slowly took Carth's hand off his shoulder.

"Or we could be doing what we set out here to do, get these Sith drinking faster!"

Nic looked back to the group quickly. Seeing them all in a growing drunken stupor made this conversation safer, but he still spoke just above a whisper.

"Chill out, 'Dan,'" he told the Republic officer. "And follow my lead."

Nic stuck a bottle of ale in Carth's hand.

"With the right amount of encouragement and persuasion, you can make somebody do anything you want! Just do everything you can to make sure these Sith never stop drinking and never slow down. In order to do that, you have to be the life of the party, so shape up."

Carth's eyebrow cocked up as his companion talked about manipulation in such a casual way.

"You're serious?" He asked. "That sounds a little dark coming from you."

Nic shrugged. "You know what I mean. We need to get to Bastila, and this is our only shot, and we won't get anywhere by you being your usual stick in the damn mud.

Then it was Nic's turn to twirl Carth around to face another group of Sith. This one had an armored Sith with the helmet off.

"You take care of that one. That's your uniform, Carth. Take him down."

Nic pushed Carth toward them. Carth took one last look behind him at Nic, who gestured onward. Carth shook his head, fixed his shoulders in place, and walked toward the group, bottle in hand.

**15 minutes later….**

Nic leaned against the wall, bottle in hand, as he watched how the party was progressing. He was delighted to see some partygoers had devolved to slumping down in chairs as their sense of balance was wavering. Loud laughter and screams pierced the air all around him like a dull roar. He relished every minute of it. It was the sound of a plan coming together.

He studied the bottle for a moment then sniffed the open top. The scent of the ale was a tempting one. Just fragrant enough to invite you in, but the pungent smell of alcohol was definitely there.

Carth walked up next to him.

"Mission in progress, oh fearless leader."

"Really now?" Nic chuckled. "Show me."

Carth pointed to his assigned group behind him, where the armored man kept pouring himself glass after glass, showing everyone how fast he could down them.

Nic couldn't help but laugh at Carth's success.

"How'd you do it?"

"Called him a chicken if he didn't do it."

"You're a master of machismo, Carth."

Carth puffed his chest out proudly. "What can I say?"

The two of them laughed again, and Carth lowered his voice.

"Seriously, Nic, this plan is brilliant. I couldn't have thought of a better way to do it that doesn't involve us getting shot into swiss cheese."

Nic arched an eyebrow and put on a shocked face.

"Is…is that a kriffing compliment I hear out of your mouth? For ME?"

Carth laughed. "You don't have to be an ass about it."

"I'd say that's call for a celebration swig!"

Nic popped the bottle in his mouth and took a drink. Carth quickly snatched it out of his hand.

"What the hell was that? We don't need you getting drunk too!"

Nic smacked his lips a few times.

"Wow….fruity….tangy…dark….but that kick is definitely there. Shouldn't be long now for these Sith."

Carth shook his head. "Incredible."

"What?"

"Just when I think I'm starting to gain more respect for you, you manage to blow it away in the next five seconds."

Nic patted Carth on the shoulder before stepping away from the wall.

"It's been ten. Give me more credit."

Nic walked away straight to the other group with an armored Sith in it. Three of them in a group. It looked like one was trying to get the others to stop drinking. This couldn't happen. As Nic approached, he could hear their slurred voices.

"Don't be such a schlummy! I'll drink as much as I want!"

"No, no more drinksh. Remembah, we're allh on callh tomorrah."

It was the armored Sith trying to get the other two to stop. He needed that uniform. He was going to get that uniform if it was the last thing he did. There was no way he was going to take that kind of beating from a woman and not have a reward at the end of all of this.

"I'm sorry, fellas," Nic said as he reached them. "Am I to understand that all six of your balls have fallen off?"

The armored Sith shot Nic a dirty, hazed look. "Whoo the KRIFF are you?"

"I think the better question is: Are you a man, soldier?"

The armored man blinked a few times, as if he had to think about this first.

"Um….schyeah."

"Then you better down that bottle on the table there, son."

The man looked behind him. "Thaht wahn? Noooooo….I cahn't be hungh over tomorrah."

Nic decided to play hardball. Maybe he could scare this guy into drinking it.

"That was not the correct answer I would hear from a real man!" Nic barked, getting in the drunk Sith's face. "I thought the Sith were real men…but I guess I was mistaken."

Nic turned on his heel and began walking away, counting down silently in his head.

"Heyh! Wee Shith arrr realh menh!"

Nic smiled, but lost it as he turned around and crossed his arms.

"Prove it then, ladies."

The armored Sith turned purple with anger, then grabbed the bottle. "Gimme thaht!"

The Sith tossed the bottle back in his mouth and started swallowing. Nic ran back up to the group and pumped his fist in the air, yelling "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!"

The two Sith next to him joined in the chanting until the armored man went the way of Razz earlier, swayed where he stood, and fell flat on his back. Nic grabbed two more bottles from the table and shoved them into the other two's hands and stepped back as the other two tried it.

The plan was going perfectly. Nothing could go wrong now. At least, that's what Nic thought until he felt a hand grab his own, twirling him around.

The next thing he knew, Nic felt Sarna grab his arms and pull him in closer.

"There you are, cutie. You didn't think you were going to stay away from me all night, did you?"

Nic saw her cheeks flushed a strawberry red and her stance was woozy to say the best. She had to have been plastered. There was that sensual draw again. This was literally the last thing he needed right now, yet he wasn't complaining.

Sarna inhaled deeply in front of him.

"Mmmm, you smell good," she crooned, sliding her hands up his sides slowly until she had him by the shoulders. "You smell like a man."

Nic looked from one of her hands to the other, realizing he probably wasn't going anywhere for a few minutes.

"Aaaand you smell like ale," was all he could manage before she reached up, grabbed the back of his head and forced his lips into hers. Nic's eyes shot open as she kissed him roughly just a few times before stopping abruptly.

Nic blinked a few times and pulled away, noting her eyes were closed and she wasn't moving anymore. Her breaths came slowly, and she was now leaning into him for support.

_You've got to be kriffing me_, he thought. _The only action I've had in I don't even know how long and I put her to sleep after one kiss. _

Nic chuckled and shook his head, scooping one arm under her legs and picking her up in his arms easily. As humbling as that was, at least she was now passed out from the ale, which was what he and Carth needed.

Carth, on the other hand, suddenly appeared behind him.

"Seriously? You're trying to get lucky NOW of all times?"

Nic slowly turned around to face Carth, drunken Sarna in his arms.

"For the record, she came onto me."

**20 minutes later….**

"Finally! That's the last part!"

Nic exhaled as pulled the final metal boot off the unconscious Sith. He smiled as he placed it on his own foot. He looked down at his body and spun around a few times, admiring the new Sith armor that now adorned him.

Everyone at the party had since been passed out for the last ten minutes, their bodies lying on the floor or in chairs, in various forms of disarray. Nic looked around for wherever the Sith had set his helmet down at.

He found it lying in an armchair a few feet away, but as he approached it, he recoiled back a little. Someone had decided to use the empty Sith helmet as a barf bucket.

"Kriff…" Nic picked up the helmet slowly. "Hey Carth! I found your helmet!"

But as he turned, Carth stood behind him, already in full armor. His voice sounded a bit like static as it came through the helmet's comm.

::I'm all set.::

"Damnit."

Nic took the helmet over to the sink in the kitchen of the apartment, running the tap and sloshing it around, trying to wash the vomit out.

He could hear Carth laughing behind the helmet.

::You're gonna need to hang an air freshener in that thing.::

"Shut up and hand me the Palmolive."

**And there you have it folks! They survived the party and got their uniforms! I always felt like it was a cop out that they skipped the whole party in the game and they just went from standing to passed out so I wanted to fill in the blanks. And my, my, is Carth picking up on some Revan-like tendencies in Nic already? We'll find out more in the next Taris chapter! Please review, awesome readers!**


	5. Chapter 5: One Way or the Other

**It's time to get Nic and Carth down into the Lower City, awesome readers! I also placed a dialogue homage to Star Wars Episode IV in it, a gold star to the first reader who finds it! Hope you enjoy this next chapter and don't forget to leave me a review. Special thanks MyrddinEmrys3 for great constructive criticism! Really puts a smile on my face when I see reviews, like warm fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies. **

::Kriff, no wonder the Sith are always so uptight. These leg plates are really starting to crop up into my-::

::I really don't need to know this.::

::Will you relax already?::

The static lacing the two men's voices hissed out through their helmets as they approached the elevator to the Lower City. Even though they now had new Sith uniforms, Nic was swiftly growing tired of Carth's paranoia.

::This isn't going to work.:: Carth muttered inside his helmet.

:Why didn't you say so before?::

::I _did_ say so before.::

Nic drew the Sith blaster from its holster as the two came within sight of the trooper guarding the door, unbeknownst to them.

::I swear, if I hear one more complaint out of you, I'll put a bolt between your eyes!::

The elevator trooper shook his head. Must be two young rookies. He chose this moment to intervene.

::Easy there, boys. Put your gun away, soldier, before you cause a situation out here.::

Both Nic and Carth froze and turned toward the guard. One cue, Nic holstered the gun and turned back to Carth. The Republic solider shrugged, an odd sight seen in Sith Trooper armor. Carth then nodded toward the elevator.

Nic turned, tried to swallow the lump that just formed in his throat, and put on his best confident walk over to the other trooper.

::Ah…yeah. Sorry about that. We were…ah…just screwin' around after a long shift.::

The elevator trooper looked off toward the sky, noting the steadily rising sun.

::It's morning. I thought only Steadson was on patrol last night in the Upper City.::

Nic's mind worked quickly.

::Ah….yeah. Good ol' Steadson here…::

Nic patted Carth on the shoulder and shook him once.

::He wasn't holding up too well last night. Guess he had one too many the night before.::

Nic chuckled, then patted Carth on the back. The Republic soldier was shooting daggers through his helmet.

::I was called in by Command to help him out last night.::

The elevator trooper looked from Carth to Nic and then back to Nic.

::Alright, then. You're good to pass through boys, with the right security code.::

Nic froze where he stood. Security code? He silently cursed himself behind his helmet for not thinking there would be a password. Of course there would be! Did he think the Sith were just going to open the door for them? Lay out the welcome mat while they're at it?

::Ah….erm….right. The security code. I'm just a little fuzzy from the long night.::

He chuckled, but the trooper at the elevator didn't return it.

Kriff.

::The code is…..Sigma-Niner-Niner-Tyranna…Epsilon…::

Now it was the elevator trooper's turn to chuckle. He waved off Nic's attempt at guessing.

::At ease, soldier. I knew the two of you have been out all night and missed the morning briefing for the new daily code. I won't tell Command if you get down there and do your jobs, rookies.::

Nic blinked behind the helmet, but wasn't about to waste this opportunity. He grabbed Carth by the armored shoulders and practically pushed him in the elevator past the trooper guard.

::Right! You got it, sir! C'mon, Steadson. Let's hope you can handle duty better than you can handle your ale!::

That drew another laugh from the guard as the elevator doors closed and it began its descent. Nic turned to Carth and blew out a breath.

::Well, I think that went well, don't you?::

Cath just turned and stared ahead at Nic, saying nothing. One the one hand, they had made it onto the elevator and they were one step closer to Bastila. On the other hand, it had been quite the annoying and frustrating journey with his companion.

::What?:: Nic asked.

Carth continued staring.

::Stop looking at me like that.::

It seemed, for Nic and Carth, as though every time things started to look up for them, they found themselves in a situation that would have them totally screwed.

Now was one of those times, as the two of them, now having abandoned their Sith helmets, were running for their lives down the metallic hallways of the Lower City, chased by a squad of Black Vulkars.

Hot blaster bolts whizzed past their heads as the both of them ran at break-neck speed, with the Vulkars keeping stride behind them well enough.

"How the hell do we always wind up in these situations?" Carth yelled frustratingly. He quickly turned to look behind him and fired off a shot at their pursuers. Unfortunately, while he was running, his aim was twice as worse, and the bolt sailed past the top of one of the Vulkar's heads. Carth cursed as the two of them sprinted.

"How many of them are there?"

"Three. I counted three."

Carth turned to Nic, giving him what was quickly becoming his trademark incredulous look.

"How do you know that?"

A bolt flew past Nic's right and smashed into the wall, sending a shower of sparks exploding in front of him.

"Not really the most pressing issue right now, Carth!"

Nic's mind pulsated as he ran. He would have to think fast if the two of them were going to live long enough to find Bastila. He didn't want to try explaining to Carth that it was, in fact, that familiar instinct within him that seemed to be able to count the enemies behind them without having to turn and look. Now was not the time for that.

Now was the time for a quick plan, and Nic saw it emerge up front. There was a large indentation in the wall. As they drew closer, he noticed it was the entrance to a cantina.

"Carth! We'll split off. Take cover behind the outcropping wall in front of the cantina, and I'll keep going! Some will go after you, and some me. We'll have better chances!"

"What?"

"Just do it!"

Carth twisted his face in frustration, let out a growl, and then dove in front of the cantina door. Nic pumped his legs forward down the hall, hoping most of the Vulkars would come after him. A stitch in his side was beginning to form, and hurt like hell.

Another outcropping, another entrance, appeared up ahead, and Nic immediately ducked behind it, only to come face-to-face with a female guard in combat armor who had to have been the guard.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing? You can't just charge the base of the Hidden-"

"Shh!"

Nic pulled the vibroblade from his back and pressed himself against the wall, closing his eyes. He was trying to harness his instinct once again, to try to see if he could tell how close his chasers were getting to him. Maybe if he tried concentrating, the instinct could come whenever he called it?

Sure enough, he began to get a prickling on the back of his neck, and somehow the instinct was telling him the enemy was drawing closer. He tightened his grip on the blade, and listened to the sense inside him.

The sense was telling him the guard was bearing down on him right…about….now. Nic swung his vibroblade horizontally from behind the wall and immediately slashed through the Vulkar's stomach. The impact knocked Nic forward, dropping his blade. He rolled across the metal floor, but leaped back up.

He could tell the Vulkar had wound up much worse off from that encounter, as he was not getting up.

Nor was he breathing.

Nic exhaled, tiredly walked over and picked his vibroblade back up, sliding it into the sheath on his back. A pair of awestruck eyes from the armored woman guarding the door met him as he turned to her.

"How….how did you…"

"Hold that thought."

Nic sprinted away from the door, back up the dark metal hall, back to where he had told Carth to make his stand. What he saw up ahead only made him try to pump his legs harder and faster to get there in time.

He saw one Vulkar dead on the ground, but the other was bearing down on Carth with his vibroblade. Nic had no idea from this distance why Carth wasn't just blasting him, but he knew that if he didn't there in time, things didn't look good for his friend.

Nic saw the Vulkar raise his blade up to attack, and then collapse to the ground as a small blast ripped through his side. Nic skidded to a stop in front of carth just as the gang member hit the ground, not rising again.

"Carth! What happened? Why didn't you just waste him?"

The sweat-stricken Republic commando fixed Nic with a hard look, and then held up his blaster. The muzzle of the weapon looked like it had been sliced off.

"Trust me, I would have liked to. Thanks for getting him, though."

"I didn't."

"I did!"

Nic turned toward the voice. It was coming from a rather large, muscular man, who stood a head taller than both he and Carth. The man's biceps were the size of watermelons, and he was holding a really big gun. It had been a while since Nic had laid eyes on a blaster rifle of that size. The rifle was smoking as the man approached them.

"I would have thought mothers were teaching their boys better," he gruffly said to the two, stopping in front of them and shouldering his weapon.

"You boys shouldn't be playing with those peashooters. You'll shoot your eyes out."

The man chuckled, while Carth shot him a dirty look. Nic was just thankful the man had been there when he was.

"Thanks for the assist. We appreciate it."

Nic held out his hand.

"I'm Nic."

Their apparent savior walked right past his outstretched hand over to the Vulkar's body.

"Names aren't important."

The man nudged the dead Vulkar's shoulder with his boot. The man had a gray crew-cut and was wearing a form-fitting black undershirt with a brown leather vest over it.

"Those Vulkars are dumber than a Coruscant granite slug! They actually think being in that pathetic little gang of theirs makes them important!"

"A gang?" Carth asked indignantly. "We were chased around the Lower City by measly gang members?"

"Pathetic, isn't it?"

Carth got up quickly off the floor, shooting daggers at the meathead. Nic thought it might be best to interject before more trouble broke through.

"Whoah! Easy. We're not looking for trouble, just information. Those Vulkars cut down three other guys before turning on us."

"Those would have been the Hidden Beks. Those two bands of idiots seem to be locked in endless, futile gang wars. Gadon keeps the 'Beks in line, but Brejik's getting dreams of grandeur."

Nic cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry. Gadon? Brejik?"

The muscle-man turned back to face Nic, his large gun still shouldered.

"They're the leaders of the two gangs, and if luck favors either of you at all, you won't have to meet them in person."

The man paused, then looked at Nic briefly, as if there was something he was trying to figure out. After a moment, the peering stopped.

"Anyway, I have places to be and skulls to crack."

The man began walking toward Nic.

"A word to the not-so-wise. You said you're not looking for trouble, but you'll find plenty of it here in the Lower City, so I suggest the both of you upgrade to a man's weapons if you know what's good for you. Unless you have a death wish…"

That last line slipped away into the air as the man stopped right in front of Nic and leered down on him menacingly.

"In which case, get in my way again, and I'll gladly grant it."

With that, Mr. Big Gun walked away from the two men standing in the hallway. Nic turned and watched him round a corner and then disappear from sight.

"Who was that?" Carth scoffed indignantly. "Who does he think he is? I haven't seen that kind of arrogance in a long time."

"Your guess is as good as mine, Carth, but he did save you faster than I could. For that, we owe him our thanks."

Carth shrugged. He had to give that one up.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Carth then looked up at the cantina sign and gestured inside.

"I don't know about you, but I could use a drink, or at the very least a place to sit down."

"Agreed," Nic echoed.

The two men walked through the doors, immediately greeted by the darkened rooms of the Lower City Cantina, filled with the low pumping of some sort of techno music.

_If you've seen one cantina, you've seen them all_, Nic thought.

"We should get a table, Carth. We can collect our thoughts and figure out what to do from here."

In the next second, Nic heard the cocking of a blaster and felt the tip of a muzzle stick into his lower back.

"That's exactly what I was thinking," whispered Carth.

Nic's eyes shot open and he held his arms out slowly. He couldn't believe it. Had his companion finally gone off the deep end from all of this stress? Carth had never once pulled a blaster on him, and he wasn't one to take the action lightly. Something was seriously wrong here.

"Carth…what the kriff?" Nic hissed. "Did you take a bolt to the head? What did I do?"

"Don't make this any harder on me, Nic. I'm going to get answers one way or another. I need to talk with you. Let's find a table away from the main bar, more secluded. Just answer my questions truthfully and we can move past this."

Nic turned and shot a horrified look at the Republic soldier, but Carth wasn't letting up. So, Nic headed toward the nearest table farther away from the main bar but also out of earshot of the pazaak tables. He tried his best not to draw attention as the both of them sat down. Carth kept the blaster pointed at Nic under the table.

"Fine. We're here. What the hell do you want to know?"

"Don't give me that. You're soldier, same as I am. At least, that's what I thought."

Carth's hardened eyes never left Nic's.

"You're starting to seem off to me, Nic. Your behavior's inconsistent, and as a soldier that sends alarms off in my head. At one time, you're cracking jokes every five minutes, and then at another, you've got the battle instincts of a lot of generals I've worked with. You talk about manipulation and tactics, and for whatever reason, you can count enemies behind you without turning your head. You can see when they're coming before anyone else can."

Nic heard another click under the table. His eyes instinctively shot down for a look before swiveling back up to meet Carth's stare.

"Ensigns shouldn't be able to do the things that you can, Nic. For all I know, you could be a Sith double agent, eventually leading me to their enclave for arrest and interrogation. I can't let you do that."

One more click.

"But I'm giving you this chance to tell me the truth. I'm giving you a chance to explain yourself, so start talking."

Nic blinked at Carth as his chest tightened. The fact that there was a loaded and cocked blaster pointing at him under the table didn't do him any favors either. But what made him nervous was that, despite his best attempts to understand them himself, he didn't think he could explain to Carth these instincts well enough to avoid getting shot.

But Carth was a soldier on edge at the moment. If Nic did nothing to try to supplicate him, he was going to get a bolt anyway.

Nic breathed a sigh and hung his head for a moment.

"What do you want me to say, Carth? I still can't explain it myself. It's like….an instinct, I guess. Like a sense."

Nic gestured toward his head.

"I get this prickling in the back of my head, and danger always follows. The prickling helps me find where to look, where to go, what to do. I can't really explain it, but I've had it since boot camp."

As the memory wafted back to him, Nic couldn't help but chuckle in spite of him being held at gunpoint.

"My old sarge all the way back in basic told me I was one of the luckiest worms he'd ever seen. He told me with my instincts, I just might live long enough to be something."

Nic then went on his own offensive.

"I mean, think about it, Carth. If I was an agent working for the Sith, why would I wait this long to turn you in? To gain your trust? Because, frankly, based on the current situation, you've never given it to me."

Carth unconsciously looked down at the blaster he was pointing at him under the table. He supposed he had never really given Nic a chance, but his companion wasn't done talking.

"Why wouldn't I have turned you in at the Sith party? You were hopelessly outnumbered. You would have been taken easily. Hell, I could have sold you out to the Sith guarding the elevator! If I wanted you dead, why didn't I leave you to the Vulkars?"

Nic held out his arms in exasperation.

"I could have tipped off the platoon of Sith all the way back on the 'Spire that you were right down the hall."

Carth searched Nic's eyes, still holding the blaster steady. He didn't like admitting that he could be wrong, but Nic was bringing up all the right points. His companion, if he was a double agent, had multiple opportunities to sell him down the river, but didn't. Hell, the two of them had been fighting alongside each other since they landed.

And, as far as he could tell, Carth saw earnestness in Nic's eyes and heard it in his words. Carth's training made him naturally skeptical of any possible threat, but the facts so far were on his companion's side.

For now, Carth knew he would have to try to set aside his paranoia and believe what Nic was saying. Carth still didn't like that Nic wasn't giving him a straight answer on this "instinct" of his, but no tell-tale signs of lying were present in his companion's behavior. He was strange and inconsistent, but not dishonest.

Carth holstered the blaster and folded his hands on the table. Nic blew out a breath and relaxed a little.

"I'm sorry, Nic, but I'm a Republic soldier. When I see something that stinks to me, I'm trained to ask questions and keep my guard up."

This time it was Carth's turn to sigh and hand his head.

"But you've been a friend to me since we escaped the 'Spire, and you've been by my side helping me this whole time. By all standards, you should have earned my trust by now. I just….I can't give it to you yet. I'll fight with you, and give you the benefit of the doubt, but it's just too complicated right now."

Carth looked up at his companion.

"It that alright?"

Nic saw the truth in Carth's explanation, but couldn't help but still be angry over this colossal display of distrust. What the hell was Carth hiding? What had messed him up so much that he couldn't trust anyone?

"I'm a Republic soldier too, Carth," Nic said plainly. "Which is why you're going to have to drop this paranoia thing and quick. How can I be comfortable going into battle not knowing the sureness of the blaster next to mine?"

Carth nodded and held up a hand.

"I understand, probably more than you know. I may have trust issues, but I know well enough to look after my unit. As long as both our blasters are pointed at the Sith, you have nothing to worry about from me."

For a few moments, neither man said anything. The tension still hung think in the air. A meat cleaver would have no hope of cutting through it. Finally, Nic stood up from the table.

"Who wants beer? I want beer."

Carth chuckled, and stood up too.

"Since we didn't have to bribe our way down, one round on me."

"You know, I'm starting to like you again, Carth."

This time they both chuckled. Nic knew this conversation was far from over, but at least for now, a major impasse in their working relationship had been removed. There was no room for division like this on the way to finding this damn Bastila.

Unfortunately, their beer plans were cut short by a young woman's voice piercing through the pulsing bass of the cantina.

"Who you calling little girl, Chuba-face?"

Nic turned to see a young blue-skinned Twi'lek girl being harassed by a couple Rodians. They were armed.

Nic turned back to Carth. The Republic soldier just sighed where he stood.

"You're going to step in, aren't you?"

"Naturally!"

Nic smiled widely as Carth shook his head.

"C'mon, stick-in-the-mud, it'll be fun."


	6. Chapter 6: Once Bitten

"The Vulkars stripped those pods clean within hours after they landed. It's too bad we didn't get there first, considering what my spies reported the Vulkars found."

"I need you to tell me exactly what they found."

Nic fixed the Hidden Bek leader in front of him, Gadon, with a determined stare. This was easily the biggest lead he and Carth had, and it had been another journey entirely just to get to Gadon.

He couldn't help but divert a cautious sweep of the eyes over in Zaerdra's direction. The yellow and purple Twi'lek second-in-command had rather blatantly stated her distrust of the two Republic soldiers, and Nic kept his senses on high alert in case she tried to spring on them. Nic couldn't rule out that possibility. After all, it took some major convincing on his part just to get the guard to let them in the kriffing door.

At least the Beks' leader had the common sense to avoid such snap judgments. As long as Nic and Carth kept things smooth with the head honcho, Nic knew Zaerdra would be kept on her leash.

Gadon, a tall, dark, bald man with a piercing in his right eyebrow, folded his arms behind his back.

"A female Republic officer named Bastila survived the crash."

At this point, Gadon paused and began to pace slowly behind his desk, bowing his head slightly in thought.

"We Beks don't believe in intergalactic slavery, but the Vulkars aren't so picky. They took her prisoner."

Nic immediately felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Not only did someone else get to the pods before him and Carth, but this Jedi woman was now in the hands of petty gang members.

Carth shook his head and cradled his temple in his fingertips. Intergalactic slavery was literally the last activity Bastila needed to be a part of. The key to the entire Republic war effort was now an item available to highest bidder. He knew he and Nic had run out of time fast.

The next 24 hours were going to be absolutely crucial if they had any hope of getting the Jedi back.

Nix fixed Gadon's eyes again.

"What will happen to her now?"

"Any number of things," Gadon simply stated. "I highly doubt any of them will be pleasant, either, but…"

"Gadon," Zaerdra interrupted. "Our scouts have just returned from Vulkar territory. They have some information I think you'll want to know."

The Bek leader turned to his second-in-command and nodded once before facing Nic and Carth again.

"I'll be right there. Excuse me for a few minutes."

With that, Gadon and Zaerdra walked over to a different area of the base. Carth took this opportunity to get in his own word.

"They still think Bastila is just a Republic officer," he whispered to Nic. "This could work to our advantage."

Nic arched an eyebrow. "From where I'm standing, we're kriffed either way. How do you figure?"

"If the Vulkars knew she was a real, honest-to-God Jedi, you can bet that security around her would be tighter than a dewback's hide. There's no way they'd let her out of their sights, not with the kind of reward they'd get for turning her in."

Carth continued. "While nabbing a Republic officer is still nothing to sneeze it, they're not nearly as valuable, and there's a better chance that we'll find her, or even that she'll figure out a way to escape from the Vulkar base on her own."

Despite the horrible sinking feeling that had plagued his stomach a few minutes ago, Nic couldn't help but smile at his friend's reasoning.

"Now THIS is the kind of thinking I can get behind, Carth! For once, you're not taking the 'Welp, we're just totally screwed' approach."

That drew a chuckle from the Republic commando. "Guess I should think of that as a compliment, but in all honesty, we can't afford to be screwed on this. The Vulkars may be stupid, but I'm sure Brejik isn't. It'll be only a matter of time until they discover just how valuable Bastila truly is, and then we're totally screwed."

Nic shook his head. "Fair enough."

By this time, Gadon and Zaerdra had already returned to their former places.

"It's just as I suspected, I'm afraid," Gadon began. "It seems your friend Bastila has become a pawn in Brejik's game to take over the Lower City. He's offered her up as the Vulkar's share of the prize in the annual swoop gang race."

Gadon rubbed the back of his neck as he started to pace again.

"By offering up such a valuable prize, Brejik hopes to win the loyalty of some of the smaller gangs."

"So, that sets us up then," Nic interjected. "We know she'll be in one place for the swoop race."

He turned back to Carth. "That's when we spring her."

Carth shook his head. "I wish it were that easy, Nic, but how do you propose we go about the rescuing? We can't fight off all the gangs gathered there. It would be suicide."

"Agreed," Gadon stated. "Your only hope of getting Bastila back is somehow winning the big season opener of the swoop race."

Nic arched an eyebrow, looked around and then pointed to himself.

"Me? Swoop racing? I'm a soldier. Not really the swoop jockey type."

"I agree," Carth said from behind Nic. "If you enter in the race and win it yourself, it would avoid any suspicion. You'd win Bastila fair and square, after all."

Again, Nic turned to face Carth. "I can't just waltz onto the track and demand entry. You need sponsorship! Also, I don't see you pulling a swoop out of that magical bag of yours."

Carth crossed his arms and leaned his head to the side in, dare anyone say it, almost a playful manner.

"Well, now look who's the plan-rejecter."

Gadon spoke up again before Nic could offer a retort.

"I might be able to help you with that."

Nic turned back around.

"What are you proposing?"

Gadon folded his arms behind his back again. "The both of us have something to gain from you winning this race….and even more to lose. I can sponsor you as a rider for the Hidden Beks this year. You win the race, you win your friend's freedom.

"But first I need you to do something for me."

Nic inwardly groaned. What they needed the least right now were more errands slowing them down on their mission. Still, the swoop race seemed the best way to get Bastila back. It was their best lead. Hell, the best lead they'd had since their crash-landing.

Whatever string was attached to the Hidden Bek sponsorship, Nic decided it was worth it.

"What do you need?"

"My mechanics have developed an accelerator for a swoop engine," Gadon continue, resuming his pacing. "A bike with this accelerator can beat any other swoop out there. But the Vulkars stole the prototype. They plan to use it to guarantee their victory."

Gadon pointed directly at Nic. "I need you to break into their base and steal it back."

Nic knew Gadon's request would be mutually beneficial for both the Hidden Beks and their need to find Bastila. But the thought of storming a Black Vulkar base, when just a handful of them were enough to chase them around half of the Lower City, gave Nic that rumbling feeling in the bottom of his gut.

"I suppose just knocking on their door is out?" Nic asked.

"Definitely," Gadon said. "It won't be easy, but I know someone who can get you inside. One who can get you in through a back way. Mission Vao."

Nic raised his eyebrows as Carth spoke up.

"Mission? That Twi'lek kid we met in the cantina?"

Gadon squinted.

"Did she have a large Wookie friend with her named Zaalbar?"

Nic nodded. "We met in the Lower City Cantina. I told her who we were looking for and she recommended Carth and I come here and speak with you."

"You need to find her," Gadon stated. "She and Zaalbar can usually be found exploring in the Undercity, the slums of Taris. They're located on a planetary level even below this one, but you'll need to get past the Sith guarding the entrance."

"We managed to steal a couple Sith uniforms in the Upper City," Carth explained. "That's how we got down here in the first place."

"That may have worked up there, but down here security is tighter," Gadon replied. "Those uniforms won't be enough to fool anyone down here."

Gadon once again folded his hands behind his back and began his pacing anew.

"Luckily, my gang ambushed one of the Sith patrols heading down to the Undercity. That patrol's security papers are in my hands. Since we're working together, I'd be more than happy to grant you the papers….in exchange for the uniforms."

Nic could practically sense another retort coming from Carth, so he quickly interjected. He knew Gadon was right. Certified security papers would count for a lot more down in the slums, where anything goes.

"As long as you stay good on your end of the bargain once we have the accelerator, Gadon, the uniforms are as good as yours."

The leader of the Hidden Beks smiled. "I'm glad you made the right choice. I appreciate your paranoia. It's worth its weight in gold down here, but I assure you the Beks will make good on our deal. Anything that furthers our cause and ruins those of the Vulkars is a cause worth honoring in my book."

Gadon opened a drawer in the desk behind him, withdrew what looked like two sheets of paper and handed them out to Nic, who took them and gave them a scan with his eyes. Everything from the insignia to the signature looked authentic. Nic turned and showed them to Carth, who guardedly nodded his own approval. Nic turned back to Gadon.

"Our uniforms are yours, Gadon, as will be that accelerator once we're back."

Nic held out his own hand, and he and the leader of the Hidden Beks shook on the deal.

"Just keep that swoop warm for me when we get back."

/

Nic left the Hidden Bek base with a bad taste in his mouth. While he and Carth made their way through the tunnels of the Lower City, he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

"Every time we need help from someone, they need us to do something first."

"I don't think I need to tell you my opinion, then," Carth breathed out as they walked.

Nic chuckled ruefully. "Gee, does it land somewhere in the neighborhood of 'I have a bad feeling about this?'"

"You know me so well."

"I don't like it either, Carth, leaving so much of the mission in the hands of a gang leader. But he knows what happened to Bastila, he knows where she'll be, and he's willing to give us a way to her."

"Provided we steal this accelerator from a Black Vulkar base."

"Can't make an omelet."

Carth chuckled to himself. Whatever his faults, one thing his companion had going for him was his ability to turn situations around with a wag of the tongue. Still, his battle-sharpened senses prickled with curiosity and he almost regretted asking what he was about to ask.

Almost.

"So, did your….instincts….tell you anything about him?"

Nic fixed Carth with a look of mild shock.

"Seriously? My instincts? The ones that got you pointing a gun at me?"

Carth quickly shrugged the question off. "I'm just saying, if you're right about these feelings you get, did they say anything about Gadon?"

Nic thought for a moment then shook his head.

"I wish I could explain it better, but they only seem to come out whenever I feel threatened. I never got that sense from Gadon. He may be a gang leader, but as long as we get what he wants and honor our deal, he doesn't strike me as the type to go back on his end."

"If only everyone in the galaxy were actually as they seemed to be."

Nic arched an eyebrow. "That carries an undertone with it, Carth. Feel like sharing?"

"No."

Nic blinked. Obviously whatever the undertone was, it was touchy. The two of them walked in silence until they reached the Sith elevator to the Undercity. After showing the guard their security papers, they were allowed onto the lift as it began its descent into the darkest slums of Taris.

/

Within the Undercity, where no light from the sun above could permeate the endless darkness, the ground crunched dead and dry under Shaleena's faded boots. The air hung stank and stale as she breathed it in, mixed with the smell of campfires and yesterday's waste.

It had been a hard day's survival for her, as far as days went when you had no celestial bodies to go by. She had managed to scrounge together enough food to last her at least another day. She sighed as she stepped into the mangled, tattered tent she called a home. Every day seemed the same as the last, each a constant struggle for what would fill her belly tomorrow.

But this life was hers. She knew others in the Undercity who had seen the up-world, and it sounded like paradise in comparison. She felt foolish for thinking about that world so much, reasoning with herself that she couldn't yearn for a place she'd never even seen.

Yet, thoughts of the up-world always hovered in the back of her mind, like a distant dream she may have had long ago. Those wonderings never left her.

She only caught herself slipping into her thoughts when she heard a loud cry of pain coming from right outside the village. It sounded like it was coming from the direction of the elevator.

Shaleena quickly flew though the flap of her tent and ran toward the origin of the screams, her boots clapping hard against the barren ground.

What she saw when she reached the elevator nearly made her gasp….and laugh. She saw the same two beggars who always plagued up-worlders coming down the elevators. This time they had clearly bitten off more than they could chew.

They were both being wrangled up by two tall, strong-looking up-worlders. One of them, a brown-haired man with a matching goatee, had one of the beggars in a headlock. The beggar tried fruitlessly pulling at the man's arm, but it never budged. The other man had much shorter-cut brown hair and intense blue eyes focused on his own beggar. He had him in an arm-bar with the beggar writhing in pain in front of him. Shaleena knew enough that the up-worlder could break the beggar's elbow any moment.

Nic leaned down to speak to the beggar as he held his arm firm.

"Now, I think the both of you have learned a valuable lesson today. This is what happens when you try to threaten two well-armed soldiers who are in a hurry. We're using this elevator for free, and the two of you are going to go home. Everyone's happy, and no one gets their bones broken. Understood?"

"Rrrggh! No! This is our elevator! You have to pay the toll!"

"I hate it when they pick the hard way," Carth grumbled, tightening his grip on his beggar.

Nic shrugged, pushing against the beggar's elbow, making him yelp in pain.

"Airrggh! Fine! Fine!"

"Good boy."

Nic pushed the beggar to the ground. Carth did the same. The two of them got up and quickly ran away.

Shaleena quickly ran over to the two of them, speaking quickly in case these two felt threatened again.

"You took care of them easy enough! I am sorry about that. Those two beggars give everyone in the village a bad name."

"I appreciate the words," Nic replied, nodding to the woman. "I'm glad we won't have to fight our entire way through the Undercity."

"Not all of us are like that," Shaleena continued. "Most of us are good people."

"I'm sure you are, miss," Carth said, rolling his shoulders. "It's just too bad your little welcoming committee is there to give people a bad first impression."

Nic held out his hand. "I'm Nic Corsai. Who are you?"

She hesitated, looking at his hand puzzlingly for a moment, before taking it.

"My name is Shaleena. You're from up-world, aren't you? How did you end up coming down here?"

Nic fixed her with a determined look. "We're actually looking for something. Do you know anything about the escape pods that crashed down here?"

Shaleena was taken aback. What strange things to be looking for down here of all places. She had never seen such a curious event happening down here.

"I….don't know anything about that. But maybe Gendar, our village leader, could help you."

Nic nodded and smiled at her.

"Thank you, Shaleena. Do you know where we can find him?"

"Farther into the village, near the center. That's where he lives."

Nic turned to Carth and nodded at him. Carth took off in that direction, and Nic pushed off to follow until he felt Shaleena's arm catch him midstride.

"Wait! Before you go, I wanted to ask you something."

When Nic arched an eyebrow, Shaleena looked down at the ground sheepishly.

"You probably think I'm a fool, thinking so much about a world I've never seen before, but I've heard so many wonderful things about the up-world."

She turned her eyes up to meet his.

"What's it like?"

Nic gave her a warm smile. "It's beautiful, but wasted on those who will never truly appreciate it."

With that, he took off after Carth, who had been waiting a little ahead of him.

"What took you so long?"

"Parting words," Nic breathed as they ran. "We're losing time. We need to move fast."

"Awh, and here I thought we were going to sample the lovely views here."

"The man has jokes! Hallelujah."

"Hurry, Hendar, hurry! I can hear it coming!"

The shrieking female voice stopped the two Republic soldiers dead in their tracks. Nic looked to his right to see it came from a woman standing in front of what looked like a gate to another part of the Undercity. There was a guard right next to her. They were both looking out through the gate.

Nic instinctively ran toward the gate, Carth right behind him. The woman was shouting to someone outside the gate. As he stopped between the two people, he could see for himself. There was a man out there, one running for his life. Four….things….were chasing after him. They looked like white-haired feral beasts. But, at the same time, they looked almost humanoid.

"He'll never make it," the guard gruffly shouted. "I told him he was a fool to leave the village!"

The woman fixed the guard with an icy, desperate glare.

"He will make it!"

She then threw herself at the gate, her body rattling the bars.

"Run, Hendar, run!"

Nic saw the man he knew to be Hendar sprint for his life, his ragged clothes flowing in the air with each step. Hendar then collided with the gate on the other side, gripping the woman's fingers through the holes in the gate.

"Open the gate! Quickly! There isn't much time!" he shouted.

Nic looked to the guard, who took a step back from the gate, shaking his head.

"I…I can't! The rakghouls are too close!"

"The mutants will kill him if you don't open the gate!" the woman screamed.

"And if I open the gate they will kill us all!" the guard screamed back.

"Well somebody needs to make a decision now!" Carth added his own shout.

Tears bubbled under the woman's eyes and carved streams down her face as she turned to grip Hendar's fingers harder.

"No! You can't do this! It isn't fair!"

She turned her head back, looking directly at Nic.

"Please! Make him open the gate! Hendar will die if he doesn't!"

"I can't open the gate!" The guard cut off her statement. "Not while the rakghouls are so near!"

Nic stared straight into the tear-stricken eyes of the woman, then to the eyes of the man on the other side, filled with the kind of fear one only knows when their life hangs in the balance of the next few moments.

There it was again, the prick at the back of his neck, the flame that leapt in his heart, filling him with the courage to do what he knew was right. His fists clenched. His mind cleared. His heart was telling him there was only one way from here.

Forward.

Through the gate.

"Open the gate," Nic said resolutely to the guard. "I'll take care of them."

The guard blinked. "You'd….risk your life for a stranger?"

Nic just nodded.

The guard slowly turned to the gate controls. "I'll open the gate, but you've got to be quick. In a few seconds I have to close and lock it again."

Nic pulled his vibroblade and blaster.

"Do it."

The guard punched the control, and the gate slid down. Hendar stumbled into the woman's arms quickly and Nic sprinted out into the open area. He stopped and stood, poised for the four rakghouls heading straight for him.

Carth took a knee in front of him and fired off a volley of shots with his one good blaster. One shot took out one of the rakghoul's legs and it stumbled headfirst into the ground.

Nic crouched slightly, poising the muscles in his thighs, allowing the building heat inside his body to condense. He then launched himself forward, giving himself to his battle instinct, letting its subtle direction guide his pounding steps.

He fired off two shots directly at the rakghoul, which impacted into the creature's chest, but it somehow kept going.

_These things might as well be from hell, _Nic thought.

So he continued sprinting straight toward it, leaping in the air just before making contact. He stabbed his vibroblade down as the rakghoul ran under him, and he felt steel slicing through flesh and bone right down the creature's back.

Nic dropped and rolled back up to a crouching position in time to see one rakghoul leaping for him. A bolt sailed through the air straight into the rakghoul's head, killing it in midair as Nic ducked. The creature crumpled into a heap behind him. Nic turned and gave Carth a thumbs-up.

But then a crashing impact sent him to the hard, dry ground face-first. The last damn rakghoul was kriffing on top of him! Nic felt a white-hot pain explode in his side as rakghoul claws sank into it. Nic bridged his body and rolled until the creature landed on its side right beside him. Nic shot several bolts point-blank into the creature's chest and neck.

Spattered blood and entrails coated Nic's front as the killing shots made contact.

Sighing out a long-held breath, Nic closed his eyes and attempted to calm his pulsing heart from the sudden exertion. He made his way back toward the gate.

"Thanks for the assist as always, partner," he told Carth.

"We haven't come this far to die now," the Republic soldier replied.

"I can't thank you enough for saving me, up-worlder!"

Nic saw Hendar, the woman, and the guard meet them at the gate opening.

"If I had anything but these rags on my back, it would be yours," Hendar continued. "But we have nothing."

"No reward necessary," Nic replied. "Just stay inside the village from now on."

"I still have you, Hendar," the woman said, embracing him. "That's all I need."

"You've got quite the nerve, up-worlder, running in there like that," the guard chuckled.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm-arrgh!"

Nic gripped his side and fell to a knee. The injury to his side suddenly felt as if someone was jamming a hot poker into his ribs. Carth came to his side.

"Hold on, let me look at it."

Nic moved his arm away from his side, and saw the red stain spreading wider and wider through his combat suit.

"Auurrggh….I think one got me before I took it down."

"What?"

Nic looked up in time to see the guard back away and hit the control, closing the gate in front of Nic and Carth.

Nic stood quickly, grunting form his injury. "Hey! What gives? Open the gate!"

The guard looked pale from the other side of the gate. He gulped hard and slowly shook his head.

"I can't, up-worlder. You've been scratched. You're infected now."

Nic's brow knit, his eyes squinting at the guard. Infected? The hell kind of bullshit was this?

But after seeing the mixed looks of fear and pity from the couple as they saw his wound too, Nic knew the guard couldn't be lying.

"Infected? What do you mean?"

"One bite, one scratch, that's all it takes," the guard grimly explained. "You're infected with the rakghoul plague. It's inside you right now! You'll become one of them!"

Nic blinked and turned to Carth, who was just staring right at him, unmoving, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

Nic looked back down at his injury. He was infected. The disease was inside of him? Whatever made those things the way they were….was incubating inside of him this very second.

_No. Not now. Not here._

Those were the only words flowing through his mind.

_Not when we're this kriffing close._

"Wait," Nic said, striding up inches from the gate. "There has to be a cure! A doctor from the up-world told me there was a cure! A serum! You deal with rakghouls every day. Surely you must have a cure!"

The guard quickly shook his head. "If we had a cure, don't you think we'd have used it by now?"

Nic balled his fists again, this time in pure frustration. It couldn't go this way. It just couldn't. An infection that would turn him into a rakghoul?

That meant….that meant his part in this mission was over. As a rakghoul, he would be just a danger to Carth and anyone else he came in contact with. He was a dying man on borrowed time, because those things weren't people. They were twisted monsters.

His side sent another shockwave of pain through his body. He grunted again and stumbled a step to the side. The anger bubbled up in his gut. He was mad. He was infuriated. After everything that'd happened, all the sneaking, all the fighting, all the dumb luck, this is how it was going to end for him.

Nic lashed out, smashing his combat boot into the bars of the gate, making a shrill clang ring out through the Undercity. The couple flinched and the guard took another step back.

Nic hung his head and shook it slowly. Carth was frozen where he stood. He didn't know what to say, what to do. What could be said? What could be done? He was dumbstruck, in complete shock for his friend.

Nic let out a long sigh.

"How long do I have?" Nic emotionlessly asked the guard.

The guard paused, gulped again, and managed to speak.

"In our experience….forty-eight hours. After that, you….you…"

"I become one of them."

Nic snapped his neck up only to see the guard nod once, looking to the ground.

Nic pressed his lips together hard, looking to the sad, frightened eyes of the couple on the other side of the gate. He must be a ticking time bomb to their eyes now. His life was effectively over, all because of his goddamn instinct. He had to do the rash, impulsive thing just one more time, and he would ultimately pay for it.

"Mission Vao," Nic croaked out of his tightening throat, emotions flowing strongly. "A young, blue Twi'lek. We need to find her. We need her help. Is she here?"

The guard considered, looked up.

"She does come around here often, but we haven't seen her yet."

Nic nodded ruefully. "Fine. We'll find her on our own."

With that, Nic stole one last look at the man he had just given his life to save, then turned and started walking out into the open abyss of the Undercity. His side gave more stings with each step, and Nic pressed his hand to it as he walked.

Carth still stood frozen for only a moment more, before running after his companion.

"Nic, let me at least patch it up. It won't do you any good letting it bleed everywhere."

"Fine."

Nic stripped the shirt of his combat suit off and threw it to the ground, revealing the decently deep gash the rakghoul left on his side. Carth bent down and took out a medkit. As he began to apply antiseptic and a bandage, he noticed the coloring of his friend's skin around the slash was starting to turn a sickening white. Carth didn't dare let his eyes flicker up to Nic's face for fear of tipping him off that perhaps the transformation was already beginning.

He finished applying the bandage. Nic pulled his shirt back on, large blood stain and all.

"Forty-eight hours, Carth."

"We can still find a cure. There's got to be one around here somewhere."

"You heard the guard. Even if there is a cure, who would give it to these people?"

Nic shook his head, shutting his eyes tight. He knew what had to be done. He may now have a very short lifespan ahead of him, but he was going to use it to help the mission.

"We have forty-eight hours to find Mission, get into the Vulkar base, and get the accelerator."

Nic then looked into Carth's eyes and fixed them.

"Then, you take the accelerator back up. Win the race. Get Bastila out of here and back to the Republic. I'll do everything I can to help you before it's too late."

Carth felt a lump begin to form in his throat. Was he actually hearing this? Was this man, one who had fought by his side for what felt like years, one who could never stop looking on the positive side, one who had a joke for everything, giving up? Resigning himself to a fate worse than death?

"We _will_ find a cure, Nic. I give you my word. I swear we will. We'll find it before you…you….turn."

Nic let a sardonic scoff drift in the air. "Carth, I meant help you until the end. My end."

Nic looked down at one of the rakghoul corpses. Those lifeless eyes, those horns, that hair, that mouth brimming with jagged teeth.

That was his future. That was his fate. He had done everything he could to get this goddamn Bastila back, and it led him to this. He simply would not allow it to end this way.

"Because at the end of these forty-eight hours, Carth, you're putting a bolt between my eyes."


	7. Chapter 7: It Smells Like Ass

"It smells like ass down here."

"Heard you the first time, Nic."

"No, seriously, it smells like the inside of a bantha's ass down here."

That smell permeated the darkness surrounding Nic, Carth and the blue Twi'lek girl they had been searching for, Mission Vao.

The last few hours were whizzing by in Nic's mind. Every thought was a top-of-the-line speeder zipping by with Nic finding himself incapable of latching onto a single one. Since his rakghoul infection was realized, he and Carth knew they had to work fast.

They had quickly found Mission in the Undercity but this time she was without her Wookiee guardian. Gamorrean slave traders had captured him and that was why the three of them stalked through the seemingly endless black of the sewers below the Undercity, their only source of illumination being the pool of light formed by the flashlights on their blasters. That pool only served to light up each new metal grate stair as they continued their descent into the dark.

Nic coughed. The stale, nearly toxic air was making his near-constant sniffling an unbearable activity. He knew he was getting sick.

"Gamorreans. From what I remember being told back in basic, they're giant pigs, right?"

"Giant, strong pigs," Carth interjected as the three of them marched down step-by-step. "Their skulls are full of sawdust but when you're that strong and that mean, you don't need brains to get the job done."

"These pigs are scavengers," Mission added. "Big Z and I try to avoid them anytime we come down here. They grab whatever creatures or pieces of armor they can find for their trade."

Mission gagged once off to the side. It had been a while since she had ventured down here and she and Zaalbar had never gotten used to the smell.

"We've had some close calls before but Big Z and me...we always got away."

"Wookiees fetch a good price," Carth said. "I'm sure corporations like Czerka would love to get their hands on one."

Nic elbowed Carth's ribs. Carth turned on his friend, or as much as he could see in the dark. Nic turned toward Mission.

"I'm sure Zaalbar's fine, Mission," he assured her. "It's a good thing you found us as quickly as you did. The faster we move, the sooner we find him before the pigs make a trade."

The lump in Mission's throat cleared ever so slightly but she was still thankful for the human man's words. She was glad she had found them in the Undercity. From when she met them up in the cantina in the Lower City, she could tell right from the start that they were different from the average Republic grunts. What little of them there were on Taris, she always thought they were far too preoccupied with winning the war to busy themselves with the plights of the Twi'lek on the street.

It wasn't anything against the Republic. The war, for all intents and purposes, felt like it was being won by the Sith.

The pool of light fell upon a large steel door in front of them. Its middle was rectangular with rounded edges. It tapered off in a traingular shape toward the floor. Light blue and red panels shone in the never-ending dark.

"I got this."

Mission scurried down the remaining steps while Nic and Carth kept their lights on the door. After what looked like a few quick, simple keystrokes, the door opened and Mission cried out, stumbling back and landing on her rear in the doorway.

Nic jumped the last few steps, landing next to her, Carth right behind him. Nic looked through the doorway and spotted a pack of at least three or four rakghouls, huddled together in the corner. The demonic beasts turned their deformed heads as one, as if they were governed by a singular dark force.

Nic froze. He couldn't help himself. For all of their monstrous features, rakghouls still looked humanoid.

That was his near future. Huddled in a dark corner of hell, head bowed, a slave to the demonic instinct that drove these fell creatures.

As one, the rakghouls charged, bounding in long strides on all fours. Nic was still frozen where he crouched.

He didn't even see the small metal sphere soar past the side of his head, rolling on the metal grates straight toward the monsters. Nic still didn't move until the blinding explosion knocked him back.

Scrambling to his feet, he saw nothing but smoke in the room ahead. Nothing was moving. As the smoke cleared, he saw the blown, charred pieces of the beasts that had been charging just seconds ago.

"Not bad for a kid," Carth breathed out, smiling. "You sure someone your age should be carrying those around?"

Mission huffed indignantly.

"Who are you calling a kid, gramps? I can handle grenades just fine! Am I gonna get a thank-you at all?"

Carth sighed, hanging his head. Another strong-willed companion. This was going to tire him out.

"Thank you, Mission. You did just get us out of a tight jam."

"I'm about to get you out of another, old man. Just watch me work my magic on the door."

The Twi'lek girl ran off to the door on the group's right, working to bypass any security systems to get it open.

Far enough way behind her, Carth rested a hand on Nic's shoulder from behind.

"It's not too late to tell her, you know."

Nic closed his eyes and shook his head, biting his lip in frustration.

"Yeah, let's inform the entire galaxy that I'm a ticking time bomb."

"You know what I mean. She'll understand if she knows."

Carth withdrew his hand and placed both knuckles on his hips as he walked around to Nic's side.

"We shouldn't be spending time down here. We should be going directly to the Vulkar base. I'm sure one of those low-life scavengers has a cure on his person. They'd have to if they go through these wastes at all."

"If we hit the Vulkar base first, there's no guarantee Zaalbar would still be here by the time we were done. He needs our help now."

"And you need all the time we can spare before this thing circulates, Nic! Two days is great and all but we could be down in these sewers for a long time, and who knows? This disease could reach a point in development where the cure would be worthless."

Nic turned to look toward his friend. Carth could see a new weariness etched in the ensign's features. It looked very much like Nic was very nearly resigning himself to this fate and Carth would have none of that.

"You heard it straight from the Upper City doc's mouth, Carth," Nic protested. "This cure doesn't exist in mass quantities. Someone would have had to steal the doctor's formula."

"And who says it hasn't been already?" Carth grumbled louder, then brought his voice down more as Mission continued working on the door.

"For all the doctor knows, someone could have sold a copy of his formula to Davik, Gadon or Brejik. They'd pay a hell of a lot to make sure that cure ended up in the hands of their followers."

Nic shook his head. "I'm not throwing away Zaalbar's freedom on a possibility."

Carth could feel the blood bubbling in his face, having reached the end of his rope, not even caring how angry he sounded.

"So you'll just throw away your own life, then."

In the next second, Carth found Nic's hand grabbing a fistful of the orange material of his jacket and smashing his back into the nearest metal wall, pinning him there.

"I'm preserving my life, Carth!" Nic growled in a menacing whisper. "This cure is a crap-shot at best. Mission has helped our mission since the moment we met her and now she needs us to help her. I always repay kindnesses done to me. That's who I am, so excuse me if I'd like to stay the man I am while I still have the chance to!"

Nic relinquished his grip on Carth and stared the Republic soldier in the face. Carth's eyes showed surprise back at his companion. He had never seen such anger and ferocity in Nic before. Nic had also never gotten this violent with him before. There was a desperation in Nic's shining eyes. There was a lot of pain but also a lot of resolve.

As much as Carth wanted to change Nic's mind, he could tell that his companion would be immovable on this point.

"Do you understa-"

Nic broke off in a short fit of coughing. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth. His body shook several times with each rasping splutter.

Carth's shock quickly turned to concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah...ahem...ah-HEM...I'm fine."

Thankfully for them, Mission interrupted their moment.

"Done! Door's unlocked. You guys ready to go?"

The two men stared at each other only a few seconds more. "We are. Let's go." Nic called back, turning on the spot to head back over to Mission.

Carth adjusted the neck of his orange jacket and followed at a distance.

While walking over, Nic looked down at his hand.

Blood.

Mission's voice brought his head snapping back up.

"Oh, Kriff! Heads up!"

After the door opened, four Gamorrean guards stood in a line before them. Nic cursed in his head. They must have heard the explosion somewhere in their hideout and came to investigate.

Carth had said these pigs were big but they were massive. At least seven feet tall each with rotten egg-green skin, large, sweaty snouts with curled, yellowish tusks spurting out behind their bottom lips. Their armored suits looked to be patched together with whatever metal they found down here.

Nic's eyes then fell on their weapons. Axes with blades bigger and wider than Nic's head, fashioned-together spears and clubs.

The three of them were outnumbered and outgunned. Nic was sure just one of those things could crush his head between its thick, fat hands.

"Got anymore grenades?"Carth asked Mission, his voice cracking slightly.

The pigs called out as one in a horrible, gutteral scream and came charging at them.

Nic's and Carth's mind snapped into gear again.

"Split up and draw them apart!" Carth called, firing off a few shots with his one good blaster. The bolts just bounced off the center pig's armor. "Look for weak points in their armor and keep moving!"

The three of them dove away in different directions as the pigs charged into their room. Mission couldn't roll far enough away and one of the pigs bent down and grabbed one of her legs at the ankle.

"Hey! Let go, pig-face!"

The Gamorrean growled another low oink and raised his club to strike her head. Mission squirmed but couldn't break free, aiming her own blasters at the pig's head. She fired two shots into the pig's eyes and it gave out a cry, blinded, releasing its grip.

While the pig stumbled back, Mission scrambled back up and aimed a kick at the pig's chest armor, which sent a wave of pain up her leg.

"Owwwwch!"

While that was happening, Carth had run off to the right side of the room, a pig with a long spear chasing after him. He found a large steel column spanning from the floor to the ceiling and got an idea. He stopped and turned to face the pig with the column on his right.

The pig charged and stopped a few inches in front of Carth, thrusting out with its spear. Carth avoided getting stuck like a rotisserie chicken by jumping to the other side of the column. It took the pig a few seconds to process that his target was no longer there. Carth used that time to fire off a shot from the other side of the column. It was just absorbed into the shoulder of the pig's armor.

"Where the hell do Gamorreans find armor like this?!"

That got the pig's attention. It lunged again toward the other side of the column and Carth jumped over again, this time slamming his boot down on the bridge of the pig's feet. The pig squealed as Carth aimed his blaster at the opening in the creature's armor between the chest and the head and fired a bolt through the pig's throat.  
The creature fell back, dropping its spear and grabbing at its throat. It spluttered and shook a few times before collapsing, giving off a shrill ring as its armor collided with the metal grates.

"The neck! Go for their necks!" He shouted as he rejoined the fray.

Mission turned to Carth after he yelled. That was a mistake. The Gamorrean she just kicked grabbed the back of her neck and threw her to the floor. The Twi'lek could do nothing against the pig's superior strength. She crashed face-first to the metal grates.  
Stars exploded in front of her vision as she made impact. Her mind swam as she sluggishly rolled onto her back. The pig raising its club above her for the killing blow was now only a blur.

Until Nic leapt onto the pig's back and it stumbled to the side. Mission shook her head, her vision clearing in time to watch the Republic ensign play piggy-back with a massive porker.

Nic grunted, struggling to keep his death grip around the pig's throat. The Gamorrean was doing everything it could to throw him off, including stabbing behind it with the blunt end of its club. Nic ripped an arm free and stuck the nose of his blaster into its neck, firing three times.

The Gamorrean crashed to the ground, throwing Nic to the floor with it. He got up and smiled over at Mission, but she was pointing at something behind him.

"Look out!"

Nic spun just in time to take the the butt of a spear right across his mouth. Nic felt searing pain as his lip burst open, a crimson stream spurting through the world spun and Nic crashed to all fours, coughing and spitting out hot blood. Mission took this chance. She aimed a careful shot for the creature's throat and hit her target dead-on while it was hovering over Nic.

One more to go.

Carth, by this time, had sprinted back into the heat of the brawl. He lowered his shoulder and tried to knock the last giant pig off its feet. He ended up stopping dead in his tracks as the Gamorrean held firm. The axe-wielding pig used its free hand to grab Carth's face, pick him up by his head and hurl him straight into the nearest wall. The Republic soldier smashed into the wall with his back and hit the ground hard.  
Carth looked up in time to see the pig turn toward him with the axe.

It looked to be the end of the line for him, until the shining tip of a vibroblade stabbed through the creature's throat. It seemed to shake violently a few times as Nic twisted the blade. A few choking gasps were its last utterances as Nic pulled the blade out and it fell to its knees, collapsing, never to rise again.

Mission ran over as Nic slumped to one knee, propping himself up with his now filthy blade.

"I think we found our slave traders," Nic said, his words laced with a lisp from the steady stream of blood still dripping from his mouth.

Carth laughed and then grabbed his ribs.

"Ow," he wheezed.

Nic looked up at Mission. He saw darker blue splotches in a few places on the Twi'lek's face. He guessed those were bruises.

"You OK?"

The girl smiled, offering a hand to help him up.

"Takes more than a few walking ham sandwiches to stop me."

Nic chuckled painfully as he took her hand.

"Not bad for a kid, indeed!"

It didn't take the three travelers long to find the tunnel where Zaalbar was being kept. For giant pigs, these Gamorreans led a very organized slave trade. A map on a datapad retrieved from one of the bodies made navigating the remaining tunnels relatively simple.

Nic and Carth were following behind Mission as she stared at the datapad readout and then back up to the tunnels every now and then to clarify their location. They were now trekking down a tunnel with a series of doors on their left.

"Big Z should be behind one of these doors...just about...right here!"

Mission excitedly dropped the datapad and ran straight for the door nearest them in a series of three. The Twi'lek girl pulled up short and examined the door.

"Hmmm...look at this. This is one of those old-style manual locks. No computer codes or nothing."

"Is the computer whiz stumped?" Carth jokingly taunted.

Mission fixed him with a look. "Don't you worry, gramps. I've seen plenty of these locks before."

She stretched her arms out, crackling her knuckles.

"Just need a couple seconds..."

Sure enough, the door opened and a very happy-looking Wookiee bounded out from behind it. To any other person standing nearby, the Wookiee would have given a few shouting growls. To Nic, he heard everything the creature said in full Basic.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Mission!"

Mission jumped and flung her arms around the Wookiee's neck, hanging in the air.

"I'm glad to see you too, Big Z! You didn't think I'd forget about you. Mission and Zaalbar, together forever!"

She laughed excitedly as the Wookiee set her back down and looked toward Nic and Carth, pointing a hairy arm at them.

"Who's that with you?"

Mission smiled at her companions. "These are the guys who helped me find you, Big Z! Without them, I never would have been able to get to you!"

"A pleasure," Carth nodded to the creature. He hadn't seen one since the Trade Federation rebellions many years ago.

Nic bent down to pick up the discarded datapad.

"We can't lose thisssss..."

Nic turned, spit and couged, retching. More blood was seeping past his lips and making him slur his words. Carth watched his friend carefully for a few moments.

"That lip should have healed up by now. Why are you still spitting up blood?"

Nic found himself honestly not knowing what to say. He just faced his friend, breathing hard to recover his breath, wiping the crimson trails from his mouth.

Carth's eyes widened in terror.

"It's not your busted mouth. You're coughing up blood!"

Nic shook his head, his eyes darting from Mission and Zaalbar back to Carth.

"I'm fine."

"What's wrong?" Mission asked.

"Nic's infected with the rakghoul disease."

"Carth!"

"What?!"

Mission nearly stumbld back a step. Carth didn't stop there, though.

"He got infected saving an Undercity man from a pack of those things. Mission, we need to get to the Vulkar base now. He's got maybe a little more than a day now before he's beyond help."

The Wookiee said nothing, merely staring ahead at Nic. Mission eyed the ensign with a new look in her eyes, one of shock and maybe even fear.

Nic hung his head and sighed heavily. There was no point in downgrading it or keeping it a secret now. He was sick and he knew it. The infection was spreading and getting worse. There was no hiding it now.

Nic simply stared back up at the Twi'lek girl.

"We came from the Bek base, Mission. We didn't see any cures there. Do you think it's possible that the Vulkars may have gotten their hands on some in their base?"

Mission had to wake herself up from her stunned state in order to respond.

"I...I don't know. I've never even seen a cure."

Nic hung his head again. Mission quickly started back up.

"But we can gain access to their base from these sewers. If there are any cures in there, it's not too far from here."

Nic tossed the datapad into Mission's hands and pressed forward down the tunnel ahead of everyone else, calling back behind him.

"Then let's not waste anymore time. We have a mission to finish. I'd like to see it through."


	8. Chapter 8: Between Man and Beast

Carth held the datapad aloft in front of him, peering down at the readings as he and Mission walked ahead of the group, navigating hthe metal halls of the Black Vulkar base. All four of them had been through an intense hell. Hall after hall of Black Vulkar troops and their attack droids. Somehow, some way they had found a way to fight their way through and come out alive so far. They had to be getting close. They needed this swoop accelerator if theirs and Gadon's plans were going to progress.

"It should be right down this hall here," Carth mused aloud, punching a few keys on the datapad, trying to zoom in on the map. Mission followed closely by his side.

"There's a pretty good concentration of Black Vulkars through this door...right here."

Mission pointed to a door directly to their right. Carth arched an eyebrow and cross his arms in front of his orange-vested chest.

"It's worth a look, right?" Carth asked.

"If you think we can handle another fire fight..." Mission trailed off. "What about Nic? He's looking worse and worse!"

As if on cue, a Wookiee growl rang out from behind them and the human and Twi'lek turned. Zaalbar was dragging Nic down the hall by his arm. Nic's body looked limp, his feet hardly shuffling aklong the floor, his non-supported arm hanging limp at his side, uselessly dragging his vibroblade along the metal floor.

"Nic!"

Carth sprinted back to his friend. Zaalbar gently placed Nic down into a sitting position with his back against the wall. As Carth rushed to his friend's side, what he saw nearly made him draw back in horror. Blood was flowing in river out of the corner's of Nic's mouth. Each time he coughed, he spluttered more out. His skin, which had once been a rich olive-brown, was now a sickly white. Nic's blue eyes even looked more pale, maybe even glazed over.

Zaalbar uttered a few sad growls and Mission translated.

"Zaalbar said he collapsed further down the tunnel..."  
Carth placed both hands on Nic's shoulders, trying to brace him.

"Nic. Nic! Give me something! Stay with us!"

Nic's head lolled to the left, his eyes staring off at nothing in particular. He was choking out some rasping words. Carth had to bring his face close to his friend's and listen hard in order to catch them.

"Cah...Cahrth. You have to...go...now..."

Carth's mouth hung open. Was his friend and most trusted ally on this planet actually suggesting what he thought he was suggesting?

"Are you kidding me?" He asked incredulously. "I can't leave you behind, Nic! Not when we're this close to the swoop accelerator! To Bastila! We''ll find a cure on someone here, I know it!"

Nic shook his head weakly, shutting his eyes. He plopped a limp hand onto Carth's shoulder.

"Go...go on...without me..."

"Absolutely not!" Carth practically screamed, giving his friend a bracing shake. "Ever since we landed it's been you and me, Nic! We survived the crash, survived everything Taris has thrown our way so far! We can't let it end now. You can't give up, soldier! That's an order!"

Nic shut his eyes tightly and shook his head again. "No...no...you're not listening..."

"No, you're not listening, soldier!" Carth nearly shouted over his ailing companion. "You might be willing to let the rakghoul diseasetake you, but I'm not! None of us are! If anyone's gonna get Bastila off Taris and back to the Republic, to cheers and lots of beers, it's going to be me AND you!"

Carth's behavior was growing more frantic. A stinging was growing in his gut, threatening to spread throughout his chest. He wasn'tgoing to let his fellow soldier, his friend, die like this. It wasn't fair, damn it! Not after everything they had been through, everythingthey'd sacrificed to get here. Nic had proven himself to be someone Carth could come to trust. Nic had never failed him. Nic was always there by his side, no matter what.

And now Nic was dying. Carth knew it. He refused to accept it.

"Get up!" He bellowed down over his friend. "Now!"

Suddenly, Nic's eyes snapped open and stared straight into Carth's. Anger shone in them, almost in a feral light. Nic growled and grabbed Carth's shoulders.

"NO!" Nic screamed, violently throwing Carth off of him with newfound strength. Carth stumbled back and stared at his friend. Where did such ferocious strength come from? Was...was he turning?!

But just as quickly as Nic began to growl, he immediately bent over where he sat, hurling and wretching as more blood spattered on the floor. When his head came back up to rest against the wall, Nic was breathing raggedly, wiping trails of blood away from his was back to whatever normal he had devolved to.

"No...time," Nic hissed out of his mouth. "Need to...get out..."

Nic pulled his blaster out and cocked it. "I'll...cover...you."

Mission and Zaalbar stood stock=still, looking to Carth. The Republic soldier stood at a loss for words and actions. He honestly had no idea what to do from here. Nic's words were logical, if Carth could just take himself out of his loyalty to his fellow soldier. That was something he wasn't sure he could do, but what Nic was saying made sense. He knew he would just drag them down at this point and the mission was far from over. But could Carth do this on his own from here on out? Granted, he'd have Mission and Zaalbar with him, but for how long? He would now be the only person on all of Taris with knowledge of their mission and how to carry it out. He would be alone, in a very big way.

Carth was used to feeling alone. That didn't mean he wanted to feel that way again. But what choice did he have? The accelerator was so close. There was no turning back. Carth inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his head and sharpen his focus to the task at hand. It's what Nic was wanting him to do. If nothing else, Carth would honor his friend's wish, for it could very well be his last.

"I'm coming back for you, Nic," Carth resolved. "You'll see."

Nic said nothing. He simply stared ahead at Carth for a moment and then managed the most resolute nod he could muster.

"Go." He croaked.

Carth pulled out his blaster and another he had picked off a dead Black Vulkar and headed back toward the door. Mission and Zaalbar followed closely behind until they were all three converged on the threshold.

"Alright," Carth began. "We need some sort of battle plan going in. There's bound to be plenty of troops guarding the accelerator."

"Four," Nic choked out from eight feet away. "There'sh...fourh..."

Mission looked puzzled and turned back to Carth. "Four? How does he know how many there are?"

Carth held up a hand, silencing the question out of respect for his friend. "Four it is," he went on. "I was expecting more. They must be specialized troops, then. We're going in not knowing what to expect. Be on your guard and on your toes. Prepare yourselves for anything."

When the door opened, the three sprang into action, leaping through the doorway and coming up into formation, Carth with both of his blasters drawn and pointed...at the backs of four soldiers. They were all together and standing over something. It appeared they hadn't even noticed the door opening.

"Quick!" Carth hissed quietly through his teeth. "Dive!"

The Republic soldier and his two companions dove behind two large metal boxes sitting side-by-side for cover. Carth could hear the voices of the soldiers on the other side of the room, but they were speaking in some alien language he couldn't make out. Carth cursed inside his head. If only Nic was healthy.

"Carth!" Mission whispered from hers and Zaalbar's hiding place. "I can understand them! I think they're talking about a rakghoul cure!"

Alright, Carth thought to himself. Clearly they're speaking Twi'lek. "A cure?" he hurriedly asked in the same whispering voice. "What are they saying?"

"Hang on," Mission stressed. The blue Twi'lek girl turned her ear toward where the voices were coming from and squinted her eyes, listening hard for the next few moments.

Finally, Mission spoke up. "I think they're hovering around the first shipment of the rakghoul disease cure sent in from Brejik. He must have gotten his grubby paws on a copy of the antidote and mass-produced it somehow."

"Like he got his hands on the advanced swoop accelerator," Carth agreed. "It all reeks. But if what they're saying is true, then we have Nic's ticket back to health and the accelerator all in one room!"

An angry alien voice pierced through the air, yelling. Carth silently cursed again. In his excitement, his risen voice must have alerted their enemies. Acting on instinct, the Republic officer hopped up from behind his cover, his two blasters leveled at the group of four. Mission and Zaalbar did the same.

The group had their own weapons drawn. Their leader appeared to be a green-skinned Twi'lek man dressed in combat armor. There was, indeed, a large metal crate behind the group, somewhat concealed by their bodies.

Despite an entire room full of primed weapons, the Twi'lek leader didn't give the order to fire. Instead, his voice dropped to a much friendlier volume and tone.

"The chuba-face says he wants to talk," Mission tensely translated. "Says we don't look like we work for the Beks and that maybe an arrangement can be made."

Carth didn't lower his blasters a single inch. He had been in enough stand-offs in his career to know how tenuous the situation truly was at the moment. The slightest movement out of place could send anyone in this room to their death. Whatever Carth was going to do next, it was absolutely essential that it be done carefully and discreetly. If he and his group could possibly get their hands on a single dose of the cure as well as the accelerator with as little bloodshed as possible, that could be a good course of action. It was better to exhaust all possibilities before getting in a firefight.

"What kind of arrange-"

Carth was cut off by the sound of crossbow blasts as a few bolts sailed into the heads of two of the guards, accompanied by a Wookiee growl. The next thing he knew, Carth was barrelled out of the way as Zaalbar charged straight for the leader. A smaller female Twi'lek ran between them but the Wookiee swatted her aside with one great paw. She flew head-first into the metal wall like a rag doll, crumpling upon impact and not getting up again.

In a matter of seconds, three guard were dead on the floor with their leader's head being gripped between the massive paws of a very angry Zaalbar. Carth holstered his weapons breathlessly and shook his head, turning to Mission.

"Remind me to always let the Wookiee win," he said. "In anything."

That got a giggle out of the Twi'ek girl, her first in what felt like days. But the two of them didn't have any more time to spare, not wihth the Twi'lek leader grunting and struggling in vain to free himself from the Wookiee's grip. Carth and Mission stood over him.

The Republic soldier pointed to the metal crate. "Does that have the rakghoul disease cure in it?"

The green-skinned Twi'lek muttered something and Carth looked to Mission.

"Chuba-face says he doesn't know," she said.

"Oh really?" Carth said mockingly. "Zaalbar, if you would?"

The Wookiee gladly grunted in the affirmative, squeezing his paws together. The Twi'lek man gave a high-pitched wail and vigorously nodded.

"Don't need a translation for that," Carth smiled over at Mission before turning back to their captive. "Now another question. Where is that advanced swoop accelerator you stole from the Beks?"

At first, the Twi'lek man was silent until Zaalbar upped the pressure again. The wailing came back and he started spluttering a bunch of alien words that were slurring together. Mission pieced them together easily enough.

"Chuba-face keeps on saying over and over that he'll never give up the accelerator," she said. "He says whatever we could do to him doesn't compare to what Brejik would do to him if he found out he squealed."

Zaalbar kept up the pressure and the Twi'lek's squirms grew more and more despertae. Still, he would not talk. Carth didn't like where this was going. He wasn't an advocate of torture, no matter how much of a low-life was taking the abuse. Still, he was a soldier and war was war. Without that accelerator and without Bastila, the war was as good as lost. Carth no longer had any time for this.  
"Oh really?" Carth asked. "Is that so?"

He pointed his blaster at the Twi'lek's foot.

"Let's test that theory."

Without another word, Carth put a bolt right into the Twi'lek's foot, issuing a blood-chilling howl of pain from their captive. Just for good measure, Carth then stomped down hard, digging the hard heel of his boot into the fresh wound. Tears streamed from the Twi'lek's face and he began screaming words faster and faster.

"He says alright! He'll tell us!" Mission alarmingly shouted. "Enough, Carth!"

Carth let up and Zaalbar released the Twi'lek man, who fell to his knees and shakily pointed to a medium-sized security box on a counter behind them.

Carth smiled as he drew his blaster again. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" He planted one bolt between the man's eyes and his body crumpled instantly to the floor.

Mission screamed. "What the hell, Carth?! He told us what we wanted to know and you kill him?!"

"Now he can't report us to Brejik and we'll actually have a fighting chance of getting Bastila back. If Brejik finds out we stole the accelerator, he might try moving Bastila underground and then we'll lose her for good."

Mission gestured incredulously. "He's still going to know! There are cameras everywhere!"

"Good point."

Carth looked up to the one in the corner of their room and shot it off its metal stand.

"Fixed it," Carth uttered simply as he walked over to the security box. Mission wasn't done yet.

"This is poodoo, Carth, and you know it!" She cried. "We don't have to kill them all! How are we any different from the Vulkars now?"

Carth sighed and hung his head, two dark strands of his hair falling over his forehead. He knew the young Twi'lek had a point. He didn't enjoy cutting anyone down. He avoided it if at all possible, but that wasn't possible anymore.

"I'm not saying you're wrong, Mission, but we're at war here," Carth carefully began, now looking at her in the face. "What about all those Vulkars you were more than happy to gun down in the hallways? They were shooting at us, so no one gave a second thought. That's what happens in war. We don't have time to stop and wonder about everything anymore."

Carth then looked down at the security box's keypad. "And I certainly don't have time for this."

He shot the keypad. It exploded into a shower of sparks, fizzled twice and then was silent. Carth turned to the Wookiee.

"Zaalbar, if you would again?"

Zaalbar growled his acknowledgement and pried the box open with his bare paws. Carth looked down at the small piece of machinery that would have been completely unremarkable if not for the immense value it now held to all of them. Carth silently took the accelerator and then crossed to the crate, taking one syringe containing the cure and headed out of the room. Mission stood in complete silence, her mouth still hanging open as she looked to her friend, who merely shrugged his massive shoulders and followed Carth out.

What kind of people had she and Big Z just involved themselves with?

She shook her head and followed out of the room herself. She saw Carth crouching down, shaking Nic and getting no response. Zaalbar was looking on, uttering a low, sad growl.

"Nic! Nic! Wake up, damn it!" Carth was yelling, but Nic's body still hung limp despite his efforts. His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping, his white face too serene for Carth. By all appearances, it looked like his friend was now dead from the disease. A vicegrip was slowly tightening across Carth's heart, threatening to make it explode.

"No..." Carth whispered, his eyes frantically scanning over every feature of Nic's face in order to spot some sort of life.

"It can't end like this."  
Creepily, almost like he had heard Carth, Nic's eyes fluttered open and began looking around frantically. Carth almost stumbled back but instead grabbed his friend's shoulders excitedly.

"Nic! We found the cure!"

Nic's blue eyes fixed on Carth in a stare that Carth couldn't discern. It looked like Nic was looking through him, analyzing him, trying to figure out who he was.

"It's me...Carth," the Republic soldier said slowly, fearing the worst again.

Suddenly Nic's eyes reduced to slits, his face contorting in anger.

"Raarrgh!" Nic planted a foot on Carth's chest and kicked him away, sending him sliding back on his rear. Carth immediately jumped up and Nic did as well, grabbing his vibroblade and swinging at Carth's head. Carth ducked and rushed a few more feet away from his friend currently hacking at the air with his blade, as if he was trying to cut down an invisible jungle, screaming all the way.

"Raauuggh! Arrggh! Auuauuggh!"

"What the kriff?!" Carth screamed, ducking another swing from Nic and consistently trying to circle around the man.

Mission called out. "It's the fever, Carth! I heard some Beks talking about it once! Nic's not really here! It's one of the last stages of the disease! He's delirious!"

She was right about that, Carth could see. The look in Nic's eyes was almost animal as he hacked at the air. What was his trusted friend turning into? Was he already transforming? Was he beyond help?

There was only one way to find out.

In one leaping kick that years of Republic service had taught him, Carth kicked the vibroblade out of Nic's hand and charged forward, slamming the side of his arm into Nic's throat and pushing him hard into the wall. He was now pinning Nic, with his friend struggling madly against the Republic soldier's grasp to no avail, for now. Carth knew he has precious few seconds against his friend's new animal-like strength.

"When are you going to learn just how much of a stubborn stick-in-the-mud I can really be, Nic?" Carth gritted through his teeth.

With his free hand, Carth pulled out the syringe and jutted it into Nic's jugular, pushing the cure in. Nic's body went rigid and he was immediately calm and still. Carth tentatively stepped away, clutching the now empty syringe in his hand. He watched Nic for a few seconds, his friend's body seemingly now frozen against the wall. Then Nic threw himself to the ground, convulsing violently and making some kind of sound that was like a mixture of choking and hiccuping. He was coughing out more blood onto the metal floor and shivering like he was naked on Hoth.

Carth was at his friend's side in another instant. "Nic! It's the cure! Don't resist it!"

He restrained his friend in his arms and turned his head straight forward. Nic couldn't vomit the cure out. If he did, it would all be for naught, Carth knew. Nic's body was rattling in Carth's arms now, shaking again and again with those terrible guttural noises still coming from his throat.

No vomiting came. Nic's body went rigid one last time and then slumped against Carth, unmoving, silent. 


	9. Chapter 9: Time Bomb

It was the same dream again. The same large, foreboding ship with large windows serving as gateways to the entire galaxy. The same cold metal walls and floors. The same hazy shadows flowing across his line of vision.

The same beautiful woman, her eyes shining with a fierce intensity as she battled with her unseen foe. Her canary-yellow lightsaber slashed gracefully through the air, becoming nearly a blur.

Her enemy is dispatched. She stands poised, at the ready, for what? The next fight? Another foe?

And then the shadows consume everything, a reality that Nic found so perturbing that his head felt like it was about to burst.

Wait, was that the dream? Or actually his head?

Nic groaned and slowly shook his head, his eyes peeling open. The world was being seen through a foggy glass, or was that just his vision? He blinked and the haze cleared ever so slightly.  
The cloudiness grew stronger with every pounding of his head until he closed his eyes again, threatening to drift into blissful blackness once again.

Until he heard a low Wookiee growl at his side. Nic opened his eyes again and sluggishly rotated his neck, coming to rest his cheek on the bed he found himself lying on. There was unmistakably a Wookiee in the room, sitting in a chair in the corner. Nic's blue eyes swiveled where they sat, checking out every nook and cranny of his current location. By all accounts, it was just a plain metal room that looked like it was one of hundreds inside any given military base.

The Wookiee growled again. To anyone else who didn't understand the language, it would sound like nothing more than guttural growls. To Nic's ears, the translation in Basic came in perfectly.

"We thought you were gone," Zaalbar said.

Nic groaned again, pressing a hand to his temple.

"Gone?" he croaked. "Gone where? There's not too many places to go to on this-"

Nic was cut-off as two massive, hairy arms engulfed him where he lay in one big Wookiee hug. Zaalbar was happily roaring and Nic found himself unable to breathe. He feared his ribs might crack at any second from the sheer force of the Wookiee's embrace. Nic futilely tapped on Zaalbar's muscular shoulder.

"Zll...br...ah cnt...brth..."

The Wookiee finally relinquished his hug and Nic slumped back on the bed, breathing heavily.

"I apologize," Zaalbar said. "We thought you were dead, given in to the rakghoul disease. Seeing you awake and cured is the best news we have had in days!"

"Awake? Cured? What are you talking about?" Nic rose to a sitting position on the bed, questions flooding his groggy mind.

"What do you-"

Nic stopped mid-sentence when he saw the standing tray in front of the bed, holding a cup and a plate laden with a large nerf steak. Nic surged forward, grabbing the knife and fork and tearing into the steak like a true carnivore, suddenly realizing how desperately hungry he was. He felt like he hadn't eaten a decent meal in weeks. Zaalbar gave a chuckle which sounded more like a clogged vacuum cleaner.

Nic snapped his neck up to look at the Wookiee, steak juice dripping down his face. "Laugh it up, fuzzball. Now what do you mean about me waking up?"

He finished his steak in half a dozen enormous bites. Swallowing hard, he continued questioning Zaalbar.

"How long was I out?"

"About 16 hours," Zaalbar answered. "We got out of the Black Vulkar base safely. We're back with the Hidden Beks to rest up before the swoop race. I told the others I would watch you while they rested."

Nic quenched his seemingly insatiable thirst by chugging his cup of water as Zaalbar finished.

"Really?" Well...thank you, Zaalbar." Nic rubbed the back of his neck, his uncomfortable mannerisms returning now that his body was regaining strength. "That was good of you."

"You saved my life, Nic," Zaalbar said. "If it hadn't been for your efforts, I would have been doomed to a life of servitude..."

Zaalbar's growls grew lower and softer, almost as if the Wookiee was preparing itself to reveal a coveted secret.

"I have been saved from such a fate," he carefully continued. "And the only way to repay that is through a lifedebt."

The Wookiee stood taller, raising his shoulders and straightening his back, almost if he was standing on the stage of some kind of ceremony.

"In your presence, I swear my lifedebt," Zaalbar swore. "Forever after I will be by your side, Nic Corsai. May my vow be as strong as the roots of the great Wroshyr trees of Kashyyyk."

Nic was stunned into silence as Zaalbar swore his oath. He honestly had no idea what to say. He had never heard of a Wookiee lifedebt before in his life. The training he had received with the Republic had only covered what to do if a Wookiee ever attacked him. However, Nic wasn't about to refute the Wookiee. He could clearly see how this was a tradition deeply ingrained in Zaalbar's culture. Though Nic had only known him for a short time, he wasn't about to dishonor Zaalbar's wishes.

Nic shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He didn't like the idea of holding an eternal debt over Zaalbar's head, but the Wookiee seemed to genuinely want this. Zaalbar was probably swearing more out of respect to his culture's traditions than any actual desire to be indebted to a human, but Nic could not deny the earnestness of Zaalbar's oath. He felt he had no choice but to smile and accept this honor.

He nodded happily toward the Wookiee. "So I guess this means we're stuck together, eh?" Nic cheerily asked. "Wherever I go, you go. You've got my back and I've got yours?"

Zaalbar said nothing, but nodded vigorously. Nic jumped from the bed and clasped Zaalbar's paw.

"Then I accept this great honor, my friend," Nic exclaimed. "And I don't take it lightly, I promise. Now..."

Nic plopped back down on the side of his bed and asked the next burning question burdening him.

"What happened in the base? It's all so vague and fuzzy to me right now...I'm not sure I remember it."

Zaalbar followed suit, sitting back down in his own chair. "Do you remember collapsing inside the base?"

Nic thought hard, staring at the ground and trying to will the thoughts to life, getting only bits and pieces as a result.

"I think so," Nic said, squinting and shaking his head. "But after that...it's all just black. The next thing I know I'm waking up in here."

Zaalbar solemnly nodded once. "Then Mission's fears had been correct after all," he said. "She believed you had begun to be taken by the fever. Your lack of memory could be because you were no longer yourself under the influence of the disease."

At the mercy of the rakghoul disease? Had he given into it? Nic's stomach practically lurched with fear. He asked his next question quickly.

"Did I hurt anyone?" He asked frantically. "Did I...change...at all?"

Nic began feeling himself, looking for any new claws, humps or horns as a result of the plague. Zaalbar chuckled again and then held up a paw.

"No, everyone is safe," Zaalbar assured, not wanting to bring up Nic's brief scrap with Carth. There was no need to heap guilt on his friend.

"Carth found a cure inside the base and administered it to you...at the last moment, it seemed. You couldn't have had much longer before you were beyond help."

Nic felt a sudden apprehension. How close had really come to turning into one of those things? With those thoughts swirling inside his mind, his body felt suddenly cold and almost numb. The iciness gripped his heart. The line between man and beast was always a thin one. How close had he come to crossing it? At the mention of Carth, Nic snapped out of his thoughts.

"Carth! Where is he? And Mission?"

"They're all here," Zaalbar replied. "Working with the Beks on the swoop bike for the race."

With that statement, the Wookiee stood. "Now that you're up, I can take you to them. There is much to be done. I know they will be as happy as I am to see you on your feet."

"Hopefully not as happy as you," Nic laughed as he too stood. "I think you crushed my lungs a bit."

That clogged vacuum laugh emanated throughout the room again and Zaalbar gestured with his large furry head for Nic to follow. When the man and Wookiee arrived in the main metal Hidden Bek command center, Nic observed the bustling activity around him. Clearly, the Beks hadn't wasted any time now that the swoop engine accelerator was in their hands. They all had a job to do now, Nic realized. They were so close to finding this damn Jedi woman and finding a way to get back to the Republic. This one swoop race was the only obstacle left to clamber over. Nic was more ready than ever to do so. It didn't take long for Nic to spot Gadon, his purple Twi'lek second-in-command Zaerdra and Carth all standing around a table, presumably planning the upcoming race.

When Carth turned at the sound of the door opening, his burst into a wide smile and ran over to Nic, fiercely clasping his friend's forearm.

"Good to see you back among us, buddy," Carth said, his face positively beaming. He had been waiting for agonizing hours to see Nic on his feet again. Thankfully, planning the upcoming race had been a merciful distraction.

Nic found a lump coming up in his throat. He knew it was largely thanks to the actions of his friends that he wasn't huddled in the dark corners of the Undercity, living out the rest of his miserable days as a monster.

"Carth...I..." was all Nic could muster before chuckling awkwardly and looking to the floor.

Carth forcefully patted Nic's shoulder. "I know. We'll talk more later. Right now, we need to brief you."

Nic looked up. "Brief me?"

It was Gadon who answered his question. "The race is tomorrow, Nic. We have quite a bit to talk about before then."

Shock gripped Nic's gut like a vice. "Tomorrow?! I thought I was only out less than a day!"

Carth rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Yeah. Turns out I guess we were down in the Undercity longer than we thought. None of us realized how tired and malnourished we were until we got back to base."

Gadon walked over to the two, his hands neatly folded behind his back.

"My mechanics have finished installing the prototype accelerator into our swoop bike, and I have every intention of fulfilling my end of the bargain," he began. "And I'm going to go one better. Not only will you be the bike's rider under the Hidden Bek banner, Nic, but you will also be the rider of the new accelerated bike. You won't stand a chance driving any other."

This made Zaerdra fume once again. Nic silently wondered if the Twi'lek was ever not angry.

"Gadon! You can't be serious!" she shouted. "We need one of our best riders on that bike! We can't let some rookie take the prototype engine into the race!"

Carth turned an angry face back toward the Twi'lek. "If you have a problem with my friend here, then we can take this outside."

Gadon placed an anchoring hand on top of Carth's shoulder and planted a gaze upon Zaerdra that shut her up right quick. Nic said nothing during the outburst. He was still trying to wrap his head around how their most important operation since crash-landing on Taris was tomorrow. Gadon brough Nic's attention back on him.

"I...have to be honest with you," the Hidden Bek leader began, holding his gaze steady with Nic's. "There's a reason I'm letting you take the prototype engine. The accelerator isn't stable."

Gadon inhaled deeply but kept his glance rooted on Nic's face when so many others might look awat out of guilt.

"There's a good chance it could explode during the race."

Zaalbar let out an angry growl. Carth now turned on Gadon. "Well now, there's a handy little detail I would have liked to know about earlier! What the kriff are you thinking?!"

The Hidden Bek leader went on the defensive. "I can't ask one of my own riders to take the risk. They'll be running unmodified swoops in the race."

"Oh, so one of our own will be the only one flying the ticking time bomb!" Carth nearly shouted, his blood boiling. "If this accelerator is so unstable, then why the kriff did we risk our lives trying to get it?!"

"The accelerator cuts both ways!" Gadon replied, his voice rising and growing in anger as well. "If it stabilizes, Nic's bike will be faster than anything on the track! It's almost guaranteed that he'll win, but such power comes with a risk. There's a reason why this accelerator is a prototype. Its power may be coursing normally, but that doesn't mean the bike holding it is fit to withstand it."

"And tell me exactly why trying to win with a normal bike is so out of the question." Carth stated. Zaalbar growled in agreement.

Gadon had his forehead in his hand now, massaging his temples. The gang leader was clearly trying to hold his own anger back while tryiing to rationalize with the Republic soldier.

"If you think Brejik and the Vulkars are going to play by the rules, then you're more naiive than you look," Gadon said. "Brejik stole the accelerator to begin with for his own gains! You can bet that he'll have something up his sleeve to tip the odds in his gang's favor."

"I'm not agaist any advantage over the Vulkars," Carth argued. "What I am against is putting the life of my friend in jeopardy!"

"EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP!"

All faces turned as one to Nic, who had been silent throughout the entire argument before this single outburst.

"Carth, I understand what you're trying to do," Nic said evenly, his voice now back down to a normal level. "And trust me when I say that I'm grateful for you. You've already brought me back from the edge of death once, but this is something that I have to do."

Nic's serious gaze leapt from soldier to gang leader, back and forth. "If we don't use that accelerator, we don't win the race. We don't win the race, we don't get Bastila. We don't get Bastila, the mission fails. Failure is out of the question."

The entire command center seemed to have fallen silent. Even Zaerdra stayed quiet, staring straight at Nic.

"Gadon," Nic continued, turning completely toward the gang leader. "I'll race the bike, but I need to see it first before I set foot on any track."

The gang leader broke his spell of silence, nodding his head in respect. "Of course. We can go see it now. I understand Mission is lending my mechanics a hand outfitting it."

-KOTOR-

"And that control right there triggers the brakes. Don't max it out at one time or you'll be flying off the bike. Got it?" Gadon asked.

Nic squirmed a bit inside the seat of the swoop bike, the smallest area of space on the entire vehicle. In fact, the cockpit itself seemed to be the smallest part of the bike's chassis design. Two long brown and gray fins stretched down the front like twin prongs. Two giant metal cylinders sat on either side of Nic's chair, serving as the bike's turbothrusters. A panel containing a substantial assortment of buttons, switches, lights and readings sat in front of him. Gadon had been giving Nic a quick rundown of all of the controls while his mechanics circled the bike, stopping here or there to make some final adjustments before the race in the morning.

"I think so." Nic said, squirming around a bit more. "Kriff, who was the last one to sit in this cockpit? Can I adjust the seat? It's like their legs were toothpicks or someth-"

"Ahem!"

Nic turned to his left in the direction of a loud clearing of the throat to see Mission standing there, one hand brandishing a steel wrench and the other on her hip. One of her eyebrows was cocked and her face shown playfully annoyed. Nic swallowed.

"Erm, I mean...very slender, supple and womanly toothpicks!"

Nic ducked just in time as the wrench soared end-over-end inches above his head, clattering loudly on the floor. He popped back up.

"Hey! Hostile work environment!" He joked.

Mission ran up and dove into the cockpit, throwing her arms around Nic's neck and hugging him tightly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"You have no idea how much I've been wanting to hear you joke again!" She laughed. Nic did too. He couldn't hide his happiness to see himself completely cured of the rakghoul disease and no one else injured by his plague-ridden state.

"I certainly hope you've taken the time bomb out of this thing," Nic told the young Twi'lek. "Do that and you'll make sure I stay making jokes."

Mission smiled and released him, running her blue-skinned hands along the fins of the swoop racer.

"She's ready and raring to go," she excitedly explained. "These babies are practically built for speed and with the prototype accelerator, she'll be a blur out there on the tracks!"

Mission gave the fin a good pat. "Not as maneuverable as the AeroChasers, but the Tarisian circuit's pretty much straight. Just remember to dodge the obstacles and you'll win for sure!"

Nic swallowed again. "Um...obstacles? Is there any chance of a practice run before tomorrow?"

"Not while the accelerator's being installed, unfortunately. Keep your head on your shoulders and the prototype accelerator will do the rest," Gadon assured. "I've got good instincts and you have the look of a racer about you."

Gadon confidently crossed his arms over his armored chest. "Just try to relax."

As if on cue, Nic's stomach gurgled loudly. He rubbed it a couple times. "In the meantime...how about some dinner?" Nic asked.

"Absolutely," Carth insisted to the group, playing the part of protector. "He's been through a lot. He'll need to be at full strength if he's going to try this."

Carth crossed his own arms. "Even though I still think this is too dangerous."

"With proper planning, much of that danger can be avoided," Gadon replied.

"Minus the whole me-blowing-up thing," Nic interjected. His stomach growled again and Gadon held up a hand.

"What can't be controlled is out of our hands, I'm afraid," the gang leader reasoned. "Let's focus on that dinner. We can go over the battle plans in case the Vulkars try to jump us."

"Now that we can agree on," said Carth.

Gadon, Carth and the Bek entourage turned on their heels and began heading back to the main command center. Mission was stretching over one of the swoop racer's fins, trying to reach a control vane.

"Big Z, little help?" she strained through gritted teeth.

The Wookiee was all too happy to pick Mission up by her hips and hoist her up over the fin. It only took a couple minor adjustments and Mission was back on the ground again. Nic hopped out of the cockpit and walked over to the two.

"Hey, guys, listen," he began, unsure of how to approach this. He certainly didn't want this night to be the last he saw of the pair, but he also didn't want to risk their lives if he could avoid it. After all, Taris was their home. Carth and Nic's ultimate goal was to get off-world, but Mission and Zaalbar would be doomed to Sith imprisonment if something went wrong at the race.

"Thanks for all you've done for me," he decided on. "There's no way I'll ever be able to repay you both. But things could get really dangerous out there. If the two of you wanted to steer clear of the heat tomorrow, I'd understand completely."

Mission didn't even hesitate, in fact she almost snorted. "Are you kidding me? After all the hard work I've put into this baby? There's no way I'm sitting at home."

Zaalbar growled and nodded his agreement. "I've sworn a lifedebt to you, Nic. You must remember this. Where you go, I go."

That made Mission do a double-take. "Big Z swore a lifedebt to you?! That's major! That's the highest honor a Wookiee can give to anyone!"

She nodded resolutely. "Then you can count on me sticking around too. Wherever Big Z goes, I go too."

Nic couldn't help the warmth rising up in his chest as he beamed at the two. It was hard to believe that who had once been total strangers in a Lower City cantina were now valued friends.

"Thanks, guys...I really don't know what to say."

Nic's stomach answered with another growl. Mission and Zaalbar both laughed.

"How about: Pass the the hotcakes?"

Nic laughed at Mission's joke and the three made their way back to the command center and some much-desired food.

-KOTOR-

Carth Onasi found himself completely restless, lying in his bed inside the Hidden Bek base. He wasn't surprised. Throughout his military career, he had always found himself unable to sleep the night before a major mission. This race was going to be their most important mission on Taris, where they would hopefully rescue Bastila and get her off-world and finally back to the Republic. This goal should be easy, assuming Nic or some other Hiddn Bek rider won the race. Supposedly, Bastila would then be peacefully awarded to them as their prize. Of course, if a Vulkar won, then all bets were off. The only way to rescue Bastila would then be to engage in all-out war with the Vulkars on that very track. Carth hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. The battle plan with Gadon's Beks was down pat and all, but there was no telling who would survive what was sure to be a bloody battle if the Vulkars won. Carth had now grown emotionally attached to his partner after everything they'd been through. Hell, he was even starting to grow fond of the Twi'lek girl and Wookiee. He didn't want to see any of them killed on a swoop race track.

Carth also couldn't help but think of himself as well. He certainly had no intention of dying on Taris, much less at a kriffing swoop race run by gangs. Not exactly the most romantic way to end his career, and life. There were still things he needed to get done out there in the galaxy. There were still people he needed to find, people more important to him than anything else.

The Republic veteran let out a frustrated grunt and hauled himself up off the bed. All of these thoughts buzzing around like a gaggle of mynocks made trying to lie still an impossible task. He needed a walk to clear his head. Carth left his room and made his way down the metal halls. Maybe a few laps around the command center will pause his racing mind.

But when Carth arrived in the larger room, he discovered he wasn't the only one bereft of a peaceful slumber. A single blueish light shone throughout the room, providing a dim light to guide Carth, trying to discover where it was coming from. He got his answer when he saw Nic hunched over a computer terminal. Carth chuckled softly and shook his head, making his way up behind his friend.

"And I thought I obsessed over missions," Carth joked behind Nic's back. The ensign never tore his eyes off the screen.

"I wouldn't call it obsessing," Nic replied, somewhat distracted. "More like...self-preservation. Here, take a look at this."

Carth peered over Nic's shoulder at video footage of a swoop race simulation.

"These things are fast," Nic said, slowly shaking his head. "I mean really fast. They can't turn for poodoo."

He pointed at the screen. "And it looks like if I drive over these pads on the track, I get an extra boost. But will the accelerator react alright with the boosts? If I hit any of these obstacles, does the bike automatically go boom?"

Nic ran a nervous hand through his now messy dark brown hair. "I mean...how many times can a guy look over the edge and not slip off?"

That was a question that had haunted Carth's mind many times over his military career. He had learned to cope with the question and the doubts and the fears and every little nagging supposition that would cling to a soldier's mind like moss to a boulder. These thoughts were parasites, boring their way into a soldier's ego. They would slowly eat away their confidence until, finally, the thoughts would get them killed. Carth knew that. He had seen that, which was why he rested a calming hand on his partner's shoulder.

"As much as I think Gadon can be full of it, I'd say that, for once, his instincts are right." Carth said. "If anyone's lucky enough to survive a ticking time bomb of a swoop bike in a life-threatening race run by bloodthirsty gangs, it's you."

Nic chuckled tiredly, running his hands down his face.

"I'm getting a pep talk from you," the ensign said. "So this is what rock bottom feels like."

Carth lightly slapped the back of Nic's head. "Hey. None of that. Don't make me pull rank on you, maggot. I'll send your ass back to your room faster than you can snap a salute."

That drew an honest laugh from Nic, making Carth chuckle in turn. When the laughter died down, Nic sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"So...this is...it, I guess."

"Yeah," Carth said, sitting down in the chair next to his friend. "Everything comes down to this."

A few moments of blessed silence hung around them as they sat there in the dark, momentarily lost in their own thoughts. The silence was welcome, for it had seldom appeared since they started working together.

"Did you..." Nic started to ask. "...ever think, when we first ran into each other on the 'Spire, that we'd wind up here, like this?"

"You mean did I predict drunken Sith, Vulkars and rakghouls? No." Carth answered. "If I had known all the trouble you were going to put me through, I probably would have gone down with the ship."

"I'll be honest," Nic said through a couple snickers. "When we were on that escape pod together, I thought you were a bit of a prick."

"And now?"

"A bigger prick."

Carth planted his boot on the side of Nic's rolling chair and pushed it away a few inches, leading to more laughter from the two men, followed by more silence. Nic knew what he wanted to say. It had been burdening him since he came back from the plague. He just didn't quite know how to say it to Carth, even now that they were alone and out of earshot of anyone else.

"Listen, Carth...I...seriously...thank you," was all he could muster.

Carth slowly nodded once. Nothing more needed to be said. "You would have done the same for me."

Nic couldn't let that be all that was said. "I just...I can't even imagine what you went through trying to bring me back."

Carth looked down to the floor, folding his arms over his chest. He breathed in deeply and let it out.

"Yeah," he said. "Honestly? Seeing you like that...changed me. You think you can keep your guard up in any situation...but when it comes to people you care about...I know from experience that your guard is the first thing to fail."

Nic knew what he meant, but he couldn't help his curiosity prickling up again.

"Experience?"

Carth agonized over his next few thoughts, finally sighing in resignation.

"Sometime later, I promise. Just...not now."

"No, it's OK," Nic said quickly. "I get it."

"No," Carth said abruptly. "No, you don't, but that's not your fault. It's mine."

The two men gave each other one last earnest glance in the silence before Carth stood up.

"Well, we're not getting any more rested sitting here," he said. "Turn that thing off and go to bed, soldier. That's an order."

Nic dropped his inquiries, content to let the moment pass for now.

"Yes, sir!" He said mockingly, turning off the terminal, plunging them into total darkness until their eyes adjusted.

"Carth?" Nic asked in the dark.

"Yeah?"

"This Bastila better be hot."

Carth didn't just laugh. He guffawed.

"I'm serious!" The ensign continued. "She better be hot and I better get a smooch out of this!"

"Buddy," Carth began. "There are some things I need to tell you about Jedi women."


	10. Chapter 10: The Picture's Blurry

**Hello once again, awesome readers! I hope you've enjoyed these KOTOR stories as much as I've enjoyed writing them. Now we're coming up on a moment I've been waiting to write about for quite some time now, the introduction of Bastila. I hope you enjoy this chapter and you should never be afraid to drop a review and let me know how you're liking the story so far. Also, I do a weekly recommendation for other authors on my profile page so if you'd like to be featured on it, PM me a story you're writing and I'll check it out! Anywhoo, I don't own KOTOR, Bioware does. All characters and events belong to them. This is simply an homage from a fan. Cheers! -LCB**

_Remember to breathe. Breathing is good for you._

The mantra repeated itself over and over inside Nic's head as he, his friends and their Hidden Bek entourage stepped onto the platform of the swoop track. The setting certainly looked sordid enough to be a gang activity. Located in what could only be appropriately described as a slum, the race track was dirty and dingy. The ceiling hung so low over them that it gave the impression they were all standing inside a giant sardine tin. It smelled just as bad as a sardine tin would, Nic thought, crinkling his nose at the pungent aroma of exhaust, oils and various body odors. Racers and mechanics alike were milling about the platform, seeing to their swoops and hastily conversing with one another, preparing themselves for the impending race. Nic felt his spirits fall a bit. How many racers were competing in this thing? How many would he need to beat? Could it even be done?

Nic fell back on Carth's words from last night. If he didn't go into this race ready mentally, he might as well not race at all. Swoop racing was just as much a challenge for the racer's mind as it was for their body, or so Nic assumed, becoming all too aware that he had never done this before in his life. The simulations he had studied were one thing. Real life was different. Real life had death.

The combined cacophony of the race track and his own thoughts almost made Nic miss Gadon's last few orders.

"Take these," the gang leader whispered, looking left and right before handing out a series of small earpieces to his charges. The last one he offered to both Nic and Carth.

"What's this for?" Carth whispered, his eyes darting around for any onlookers.

"They'll keep us on the same page should things turn nasty," Gadon replied. "Now, which one of you will be party leader?"

Carth quickly swiped the earpiece and handed it to Nic, who just stared at it.

"What, me?"

"I can't think of anyone better, partner." Carth assured. "Besides, if a fight breaks out while you're racing, you'll need to know before you speed back into a trap."

Nic saw the wisdom in the Republic veteran's words and placed the device in his ear.

"Now, before the race can begin, you'll need to register," Gadon said. "Head on over to that desk and alert the race announcer that the champion for the Hidden Beks has arrived."

Nic nodded. "Got it."

He looked around and spotted a metal semi-circle deak in the middle of the landing, manned by a gray-skinned Duros wearing a white jumpsuit. Nic made a beeline straight for the desk and stood before the race announcer, hands folded behind his back. The Duros didn't acknowledge him, seemingly distracted by his small computer terminal. Nic cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Sponsor?" The alien's modulated voice rang out curtly, translating in perfect Basic to Nic's ears.

"The Hidden Beks," Nic spoke evenly.

That made the duros's gray, slender fingers immediately stop typing. Its bulbous head looked up to look directly at Nic's face. Nic felt a slight tremor in his stomach as the Duros's gellatinous, pupilless red eyes seemed to bore straight into him. Could the alien tell that Nic wasn't a regular face among the Beks? They were already technically cheating with the prototype accelerator. Would they be kicked out already? After a couple seconds of silence which felt like an entire day to Nic, the announcer spoke up again.

"Ah, yes," he continued. "Always liked them. I hope they can show these Vulkars a thing or two. But, I digress."

The Duros hammered a few keystrokes rapidly. "Name?"

"The Mysterious Stranger."

The Duros just looked at Nic again, who stared back resolutely. No need to give out names if he didn't have to. Plus, The Stranger hadn't been mentioned in a while. It still had its novelty.

The alien shrugged its thin shoulders and shook its oval head. "Very well, then, 'Stranger,' hold still for a moment."

The alien held up a small handheld device that Nic didn't recognize. He flinched as a blinding flash exploded. Nic stumbled back a step and his hand flew to his blaster. What the kriff was that? Had he just been shot?

"I told you to hold still!" the Duros huffed, angrily typing again. "Now your picture will be blurry. You'll have to rely on the serial number for identification, then."

In the next moment, the sound of flimsiplast being processed and printed emanated from behind the announcer's desk. The alien reached down and handed Nic a small rectangular ID card containing his name, a random assortment of numbers and, yes, a blurry picture.

"Don't lose that." the Duros warned. "Should you be lucky enough to win, you won't be able to claim your prize without it."

That got Nic's attention.

"Speaking of the prize," Nic cautiously began. "Is...it...here?"

The alien didn't bother to stop his typing, simply nodding its large head.

"Yes, she is here, being held in that containment cage behind us. Don't be confused. She's in perfect physical condition. She's currently being restrained by a neural disruptor."

She? The announcer had just confirmed it. Bastila was here, on this platform. The one woman he and his friends had been searching for up and down this entire kriffing planet for was within their reach at last. Nic couldn't stop the butterflies in his stomach as he spotted the cage indeed standing behind the desk, facing away from them. He didn't dare betray any outward reaction, though. He had to play the part of a veteran swoop jockey. To him, she had to appear to be just any other prize and human trafficking was perfectly normal.

Keeping up this facade was going to be harder than Nic thought.

"OK, you're registered now," the Duros exclaimed. "Good luck, and try not to get yourself killed. We've only lost one rider today and we want to keep it that way."

Nic swallowed and pushed the anxiety to the back of his mind, stading up straighter and pocketing his new ID.

"Thank you," Nic said. "I wish to inspect the prize for myself before I put in any effort."

The Duros waved his hand toward the cage dismissively, his eyes already glued back to his terminal. "Yes, yes. She's right there. You're more than welcome to. Whenever you're ready you can hit the track."

Nic stepped around the desk and walked toward the cage. It was a large one, easily seven feet tall and wide enough to hold a Wookiee, maybe even a very young Hutt. He walked around to the front of the cage. What he saw made the world around him slow down as his eyes shot open. He immediately rushed forward, his face mere inches from the cold metal bars.

The woman stood right in the middle of the cage, maybe a couple inches shy of six feet tall. Her hair was a rich, deep brown with a couple braids dangling down the sides of her face. Her skin was light, almost a pure cream color. She was dressed in what looked like a slave outfit and it looked like she was woozing where she stood. Her eyes were closed and serene, like she was sleeping where she stood. As the Duros had pointed out, two small round metal devices were planted firmly on the sides of her head. That must be why she was in her current state.

There was no way to know for sure without asking her, but Nic was sure this was the Bastila they were looking for. He couldn't explain how he knew, but he felt an undeniable draw toward her. It was almost like there was an invisible line tied between them, dragging them together. Why was that line there? Nic wasn't sure if he liked it. It was almost scary the way this draw existed inside him. This feeling suddenly asserting itself beyond his control made Nic stand on-edge, apprehensive.

He had seen her face before. He could hardly believe he was looking at the woman from his dreams in the flesh, but the likeness was unmistakable. Nic didn't need to see beyond her closed eyes to know that they were gray.

Why? Why was it her face that had filled these shrouded visions in his mind? Nic could only think of one reason. She wasn not only hot, she was drop-dead beautiful, the last quality he would expect from a Jedi. After all the stories he'd heard of their wisdom and power, Nic had pictured a bunch of old, wrinkled people in robes, some kind of super-powered retirement home. With the way Bastila's beauty lit up the dingy racing platform, any man wouldn't be worth his salt if he didn't have at least one dream about her.

But that still didn't explain this insatiable desire he had to be around her, now that he'd seen her. It felt just like his wayward instinct, which at the moment was also practically on fire inside his chest. It was going haywire, pointing him toward her and only toward her at the moment. Why? What the kriff did all of this mean? Nic had his fill of confusion and ominous feelings. He wanted some damn answers.

Since Bastila seemed to be a key player in his dreams of late, maybe she would be able to give him those answers. The need to make sure she left this race with Nic and his friends just grew twice as dire. Bastila was now not only their ticket off this infernal planet, she was also the possible remedy to his constant uncertainty. Before he could stop himself, Nic felt this invisible line pulling him in closer to the cage.

"I don't know if you can understand me," Nic softly whispered. "But I promise you that everything will be alright. We're here to get you out of here, Bastila, no matter what it takes. On that, you have my word."

A black-gloved hand smashed against the bars, making Nic jump back. A dark-skinned man sidled over around the cage. His black hair was crew cut in perfect form, much like the perfect gleam off his silver combat armor. What wasn't perfect was the look on his face, which looked almost predatory. The man had a cocky, lopsided grin and his narrowed, dark eyes were piercing straight at Nic.

"Spending some quality time with the swoop prize, are we?" His oily voice crooned. "That's a bit premature, wouldn't you say?"

"Brejik." Nic stated emotionlessly. This had to be the leader of the Black Vulkars, after everything Gadon had told of him.

"So, you do know me?" Brejik cracked another satisfied smile. "Good to know my reputation still spreads far and wide."

Nic did not hold back his scowl. Conceit practically oozed off of Brejik like some primordial sludge. If Nic ever had any doubts about which gang leader he was siding with, they had now been eradicated.

Brejik leaned his shoulder on the cage.

"I can't blame you for admiring my prize."

The gang leader turned and looked Bastila up and down, lustily.

"She's quite the...exquisite creature...isn't she?"

Nic's hands curled into hard fists, protective anger boiling within his gut. He may not know the first thing about this woman, but he sure as kriff knew that Brejik's attentions were unwanted.

"All the more reason I'm looking forward to winning her," Nic challeneged.

"Such confidence," Brejik practically spat. "I would advise that you save such words for the track...'Stranger.'"

Nic froze in a defiant stance, not backing down as Brejik drew closer.

"The racing profile lists you as the rider for those deplorable Beks this year, but I've never seen your face among their ranks."

"I'm new," Nic said curtly.

"You must be, because you're no member of any gang that I've seen," Brejik continued, slowly advancing as if he was trying to back Nic into a corner.

"But I have seen you on the vids before, 'Stranger.' Ice dealt you a humiliating defeat, if I recall correctly."

"She got the jump on me," Nic continued his now tired defense of that fight. "It won't happen here."

"So you claim," Brejik uttered in a low, menacing tone. He was now only a few inches away from Nic.

"You call yourself the 'Stranger,'" Brejik hissed in a feral whisper. "But you certainly are no stranger to the halls of my base...off-worlder."

Nic's chest tightened in an instant. He tried his best not to betray any outward emotions but Brejik pounced, nonetheless.

"I don't know who you and your little friends are, but I know you stole that accelerator," Brejik accused. "I know you've been looking for this woman. You really should have considered the host of cameras in my base before you came storming in."

Nic cursed inside his head. He hadn't thought of that. But then again, by the time they had gotten to the Vulkar base, he had been a few steps away from death.

"It makes me wonder why off-worlders like you would be so interested in this woman..."

Brejik turned back to look at her, sneering. "Perhaps she is worth much more than a mere swoop race prize. Perhaps the Sith should be informed of her presence."

Red alerts were blaring inside Nic's head. This was literally the last thing any of them wanted. They had been afraid of this. They had been too careless inside the Vulkar base and now they were paying for it. Nic had to right the ship now or all of their plans and all of their efforts would go up in smoke.

So Nic managed the most derisive snort he could muster. "Really? Pandering to the occupation force, Brejik? You know as well as I do that the Sith would sooner see you and your lot dead in an Undercity ditch. What's to stop them from taking this woman by force? You have a chance to garner a substantial profit off of her in this race and you're throwing that away?"

Nic ended his speech with a condescending cross of his arms. "And to think, Gadon actually told me you were smart."

As dirty as Nic felt talking about Bastila like she was some piece of meat, his diatribe did the job. Brejik's face grew darker with rage. He looked like he was about to reach for his blaster but instead opted to spit his anger right into Nic's face.

"You speak arrogantly for someone who's hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned on this platform! Go ahead and get in your little speeder and see if you can save yourself from blowing up!"

The vein near Brejik's forehead was pulsing with every word. "Even if you win...you and your friends will find an unexpected surprise before the day is done! Remember that!"

Huffing, Brejik stormed past Nic, knocking into his shoulder as he left. Nic turned to watch Brejik go, thankful that he was at least successsful in steering the gang leader off the path of selling Bastila to the Sith.

But what had Brejik meant when he said an unexpected surprise? Was Gadon right? Could Brejik be planning an ambush? Now it seemed there was a lot more than a simple race happening on this track.

Whatever it was, it had to wait. It was time for him to hit the track...and try to avoid the fiery death featured in his nightmares.


	11. Chapter 11: Not the Swoop Jockey Type

**A/N: Hello again! It's been a long hiatus. I encountered the most dreaded thing on this planet: WRITER'S BLOCK! Duh duh duh! Nothing I was writing was right to me so I took a little time off. In the last week, though, a creative spurt struck me and now I intend to regularly update this, riding a fresh tidal wave of creativity!**

**So thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoy the progression of this story. Don't forget to leave your reviews because I take all of them to heart. Many of you have given me some good constructive criticism that I've been applying.**

**Also, don't forget to PM me if you ever want to have a talk! I love conversing with other writers! Send me your stuff! I'd love to read it!**

**Cheers!**

**-LCB**

* * *

Nic plopped down on the swoop driver's chair sandwiched between the bike's turbothrusters and took a long, hard look at the array of controls facing back at him. After his brief verbal skirmish with the Black Vulkar leader, he was more determined than ever to wipe that smug grin off his oily face and get Bastila back to the Republic.

Now, if only that task didn't involve hurtling through the air at 600 kilometers an hour in a glorified sardine can.

Nic felt Mission's hand fall gently on his shoulder.

"Hey, you OK in there?" Mission asked, the usual juvenile inflection in her voice replaced by genuine concern.

"Yeah, I'll be good," Nic said. He couldn't tell who he was trying to fool: Mission or himself. The reality was he was terrified.

"I just have to remember what control does what. Let's see here..."

Every control checked out in his mind from the simulation he stayed up late studying, with a few major differences.

By major, Nic meant cataclysmic differences.

"Um...where are the brakes?" Nic asked.

"No brakes," Mission stated matter-of-factly. "Too much weight."

"So then...how do I stop?" Nic practically blurted.

"The finish line's energy field will automatically disable your repulsorlifts," Mission explained, arching a thin eyebrow. "I thought you saw the simulation."

"Those swoops had brakes."

"Not in this circuit."

"Then how am I supposed to stop before I hit obstacles?" Nic asked, his voice beginning to rise in pitch.

"You don't stop, Nic, you swerve. Swerve quickly." Mission explained.

Nic felt around him. "Where's the seatbelt?"

"Maybe I should explain about weight again."

"You have got to be kriffing me."

"There's a reason racing isn't for everyone, Nic," Mission placated, trying to assuage her friend's fears with humor. It wasn't working.

"So now combine the...package...I'm carrying with no brakes and no seatbelt and you've got yourself a bonafide death trap!" Nic blurted. "Anything else I should..."

Nic paused to wriggle in his seat a bit.

"More leg room?" He asked.

"My slender, womanly legs heard your belly-aching." Mission shot him a wink.

Nic cracked a smile. "You're a downright peach, Mission. When I get back from this alive and with the winnings, I'll buy you a soda."

Mission crossed her arms. "Just a soda?"

"You're still a minor," Nic said.

"Well, this minor's gonna be bailing your ass out on that track, so it'd better be a kriffing good soda!" Mission tapped her earpiece. "I'll be in your ear the whole time. If something doesn't look or sound right, just say the word."

"Got it," Nic nodded resolutely. Mission shot him one more smile before walking away while Nic fired up the swoop's engine, taxiing into the air toward the starting grid.

* * *

Nic slowly reached out, gripping the handlebars connected to the bike that he would use for steering. He took in another deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. These could very well be his final minutes alive if everything went wrong on this track.

If that happened, Nic hoped that Carth and the others would somehow sneak Bastila off the track. If she was won by any of the Vulkars, it was likely the Republic would never see her again.

A loud roar from his engines snapped Nic's eyes back open. The three colored lights above the starting grid had lit up, with the red light being the first to glare back at Nic.

His grip on the steering bars tightened as he stared ahead at the lights without a blink. The red went out and the yellow came to life. Nic knew what came next. Steadily, every roar of the track dropped away into silence as he concentrated with everything he had on the final light.

When it finally seemed as though time had slown down, the green glare burst into existence. Nic threw the bars forward and the swoop rocketed off the grid and down the track.

Rushing torrents of wind smashed into Nic's face, throwing his head back into the seat. Thankfully, the swoop jockey goggles Mission had included in the bike made the surging air flow across his eyes like water on a rock, leaving his vision ahead prfectly clear, clear enough to spot the first boost pad coming up fast.

_Here goes nothing._

Nic charged right over the pad and felt the thud of its energy syncing into the bike's. The dingy brown walls of the track tunnel turned into nothing more than brown blurs.

Nic's eyes made a quick dart to the long, black screen in front of him. The white outline of single arrow blinked on, signifying the first wave of energy being absorbed for the swoop's super boost.

_A long way to go._

* * *

Mission sat on a bench-high metal box in the starting grid, hunched over a datapad braodcasting a live feed of Nic's run. She would be his eyes for what was up ahead.

The Twi'lek teen nervously ran a hand over her blue lekku. She just hoped she didn't end up leading him to his very fiery, very explosive death.

Carth leaned down over the girl's shoulder, studying the datapad's feed.

"How's our boy doing?" he asked.

"He should be coming up on his first round of obstacles," Mission said. "Right...about...now."

* * *

::Heads-up, Nic! Things are about to get hairy!:: Mission's voice crackled over Nic's earpiece.

Nic's eyes swiveled back up in time to see his first obstacle. A small column of metal with a red light on top.

_Aw, kriff._

Nic shoved his left hand forward while wrenching his right back causing the swoop to zoom to the left, narrowly avoiding the obstacle.

He had no time to celebrate that narrow escape, though, as another column was barreling toward him and a line of boost pads on the opposite side of the track appeared.

Nic reversed the left bar and flew to the right, avoiding the second obstacle and bearing down on those boost pads.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

Nic looked down at the black display. This time it was full of arrows and a blue light on his control pad started blinking.

::That should be enough energy, Nic! Punch it!::

_Showtime._

Nic twisted both bars forward, resulting in two blasts of heat firing from his turbothrusters. The back of Nic's head buried itself in the seat as the swoop bike bolted dangerously down the track, gathering more and more speed. For a moment, Nic thought the gushing winds would tear the features right off his face.

He kept his hands on the bars, trying desperately to hold the bike steady. Then, as quickly as the boost had arrived, it faded and the bike returned to its former speed.

Nic worked the bars, dodging the next several obstacles. If this race was a game of survival, he might have been relieved. In this race, though, his survival wouldn't be worth anything if he didn't have the best time.

Nic's eyes flitted to the other display on his control panel, showing a rapidly progressing clock.

00:15:89

_Seriously? Longest 15 seconds of my life._

Nic spurred the bike on, unable to tell if 15 seconds was a good time or a bad time at this point. A thud on his right signaled a boost pad Nic had overlooked.

Winging the pad's energy proved to be too much for his bike's stabilization. The swoop careened across the track, dipping to the left. Nic felt the blood in his face shift to one side as one of the bike's fins came dangerously close to scraping on the track.

::Compensate for the drift, Nic! Correct yourself!::

Nic slammed the right bar forward as hard as he could, gritting his teeth for the inevitable force of impact with the track.

Instead, Mission's advice proved sound and the swoop rotated to the right until it was stable again.

Another quick veer to the right avoided another obstacle and flew right over another pad. Nic squinted ahead to see five pads coming up in a serpentine formation. A push on the left brought him right over the first few and a quick push on the right finished the formation but missed the final pad.

It didn't matter. Nic was fully juiced up again and he cued the boost, rocketing forward again down the track and right across the finish line.

00:28:12

But he still kept going.

Nic's eyes bulged open in surprise as the finish line zoomed by under him.

"Um, Mission?" He shouted over the din of the rushing air. "Where's that stop I was promised?"

::Sorry. I convinced the race manager to let you go another round. Redros with the Vulkars just beat your time at 27:59. If that time holds, the Vulkars keep Bastila.::

Nic's stomach fell through to his feet. He could not believe his time had just been beaten. He had just crossed the finish line for kriff's sake!

He would have to do it all over again, even faster this time. Hope began to dwindle inside him, like the flame of a candle flickering in the rushing winds of the swoop track.

"That's a full 13 seconds faster than me, Mission," Nic admitted. "I don't think I can do it."

There were a few seconds of silence over his earpiece before the young Twi'lek girl's voice appeared again.

::Racing's not about thinking, Nic, it's about doing! Just let go and go with your gut! You have to!::

_Go with my gut._

Nic took a deep breath in the midst of the torrents of wiind all around him, trying to calm his mind in the storm of all that was around him.

There was only one choice. Either beat the time and get Bastila back, or let everything he, Carth, Mission, Zaalbar and Gadon had tried to accomplish be for nothing.

Escaping a crashing ship, surviving fight after fight and overcoming the rakghoul plague would not be undone here, not on this kriffing swoop track.

Nic concentrated on the track in front of him, reaching out to the instinct inside of him. He felt foolish for doing so, though. The instinct was part of him, not a separate entity.

Still, it was almost like a prayer said to whatever energy lied within him that helped him do all these things on Taris so far. If it could help him now, he would need it.

_Please, help me do this._

_Let me get to Bastila._

_Let me save her_.

Nic threw both bars forward, shooting the swoop down the track. His arms pumped back and forth in methodical motion, dodging the first obstacle and then the next, hitting the boost pads along the way.

He activated the super boost but kept his face and eyes forward as its impossible force slammed into his body. He would not be denied what he wanted, not now nor ever again.

Here they came, the serpentine pattern of boost pads and the one he had missed before. He would need to hit every single one of them if he had any hope of beating Redros' time.

_Please._

_Help me._

In the next moment, time seemed to slow down. It was almost like the world of the swoop track, the world of Taris, dropped away until all Nic could see was the boost pads. His eyes never left them as he navigated the bars and moved the bike. His concentration on the pads was so deep that the movements of his arms felt almost like feathers, as if he could hardly feel them at all.

It was just instinct.

As the rest of the world snapped back into careening, terrifying motion, Nic's display lit up with arrows.

He had gotten every last one of them.

Nic laughed and threw the super boost open and let it ride. The world and the track became a blur as he surged forward, right over the finish line.

Nic's eyes looked to the time gauge.

00:27:58

* * *

Nic had never in his life received what felt like a hero's welcome, but this had to be as close to it as it got.

The whole starting grid had roared to life as Nic crossed the finish line. As he parked his swoop bike, Nic tore off his goggles and jumped onto one of the bike's fins, punching both his fists in the air and yelling like a mad Gamorrean.

Mission was jumping up and down, yelling as loud as she could. She couldn't believe he had done it. Nic was one of the most incredible humans she'd ever met.

She then found herself being hoisted onto Zaalbar's shoulder. The Wookiee raised his free arm and roared victoriously.

Carth caught himself in a rare moment of lost self-control, pumping his own fists in the air, yelling the same statement over and over: "That's our boy! That's our boy!"

Even most of the independent racers were cheering as well for the Hidden Bek rider. It seemed there wasn't a whole lot of love for the Black Vulkars outside of their own kind.

The screech of a microphone cut across the din of the crowd, quieting them as the Duros race manager began to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the alien's sonorous, machine-like voice rang out. "I present to you the winner of this year's swoop race! Put your hands together and show your appreciation for one of the most daring riders this swoop track has ever seen: The Mysterious Stranger!"

Another roar from the crowd accompanied his announcement. Nic was grinning from ear to ear on his swoop, beaming down on everyone.

The Duros waited until the crowd died down again to continue. "Through your skill and courage, you have proven yourself the premiere swoop rider on Taris and brought great glory to the Hidden Bek gang!"

This time it was a smaller side of the crowd's turn to cheer, the Hidden Bek side. Nic spotted Gadon in the crowd and tossed him a salute. The gang leader was grinning widely.

The Duros looked off to the side and gestured with his hand. "Now to present the champion's prize..."

A sharp screech split across the track as Brejik grabbed the microphone out of the alien's hand. The Black Vulkar leader menacingly glared ahead at Nic as he spoke.

"People! Hear me!" He yelled, making his voice that much louder combined with the microphone. "Before I present the...so-called champion...with his prize, there is something you must know!"

The crowd sobered up right quick, falling completely silent. The iciness returned to the pit of Nic's stomach as he looked at Brejik. In his revelry, he had forgotten about the Black Vulkar leader.

Brejik had not forgotten about him, though, as he dramatically pointed a finer right at him.

"The winning rider CHEATED!" Brejik bellowed.

Gasps echoed throughout the crowd. People were shaking their heads and whispering to one another. Some were now looking up at Nic in a different light, an uncertain light.

Brejik didn't lose pace. "Your bike was using a prototype accelerator, clearly an unfair advantage!"

Now the crowd's whispering turned to astonished gossip gathering speed.

"Because of this Hidden Bek treachery," Brejik surreptitiously continued. "I'm withdrawing the Vulkar's share of the victory prize!"

"You can't do that!" Gadon shouted out, making his way through the crowd in a beeline toward Brejik, with Zaerdra and other Beks closely behind.

Oddly enough, the Duros race manager chimed in. "You can't do this, Brejik! You know the rules. Nobody's allowed to withdraw a victory prize after..."

The poor alien never got a chance to finish. Brejik pounded an armored fist between its eyes and it crumpled to the ground.

"You fool!" The Black Vulkar leader shouted. "Your rules mean nothing to me! I am the wave of the future!"

Brejik cocked his blaster pistol and fired off a bolt into the air, eliciting screams from the crowd as they fearfully began to disperse in all directions.

Nic couldn't believe this. Brejik was trying to take over the entire race! This must be what he had been planning all along. Nic jumped off his swoop and ran over next to Carth, Mission and Zaalbar.

It was Gadon, though, that had the closest access to Brejik. The Hidden Bek leader drew his own blaster and aimed at Brejik.

"That's enough, Brejik!" Gadon bellowed. "Stand down or be put down!"

Brejik turned and leveled his pistol at Gadon's chest.

"Just try and stop me, old man!" He challenged. "If I want to withdraw the prize and sell the woman on the slave market myself, nobody can stop me!"

For a moment, the two gang leaders stood stock-still, weapons and eyes locked on each other. The rest of the crowd had fled for their lives, leaving the track nearly empty. Nic and the others were still a ways back by the bike.

Suddenly, a sharp female voice broke the silence. It was coming from the seven-foot cage.

"I might have something to say about that, Brejik."

The Vulkar guard in front of the cage had just enough time to turn around before the cage's door blew off its hinges, soaring straight into him and smashing him into the ground.

In one deft leap, Bastila was on top of the crumpled door, snatching up the guard's vibroblade and standing before everyone, one hand placed on her hip.

The display was so incredible, it was even enough to break up the gang leader standoff. Brejik looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Wha-...Impossible!" He spluttered. You were restrained by a neural disruptor! You couldn't have done that!"

Bastila scoffed, ripping off the disruptors from her head and tossing them to the side like they were mere toys. She cocked a grin and shook her head condescendingly.

"You underestimate the power of a Jedi's mind, Brejik," she said. "A mistake you won't live to regret."

Brejik took a step back. "You're a Jedi?!"

The Vulkar leader's free hand balled into a fist while his grip on his blaster turned into a vice as he shook with rage.

"No matter!" He yelled. "Vulkars! To me! Kill this woman! Kill them all!"

As if he gave the cue, two dozen Black Vulkars emerged from the shadows of the track, running in from all sides with blasters drawn, surrounding everyone. Nic quickly looked left to right and couldn't believe it. Where had they been hiding all this time?

The sounds of multiple blasters being primed cracked behind him. Nic turned around to see all three of his companions with their weapons drawn and poised to fight.

Carth was looking dead ahead at him.

"Nic, protect Bastila at all costs."


	12. Chapter 12: Are You MEDITATING!

**A/N: This chapter is a bit longer, more than 4K words. I wanted to craft a perfect first meeting for Nic and Bastila, and the hilarious outcome just wrote itself. Hope you guys enjoy it!**

**Cheers!**

**-LCB**

* * *

_Protect Bastila at all costs._

Carth's words resounded in Nic's mind, echoing in every one of its crevices and synapses. He knew what he had to do.

"Just...be careful." Nic said, nodding to his friends, all of whom nodded back.

Someone was getting off this track alive and it was damned sure going to be them.

Nic turned and sprinted off toward Bastila, trying to fight back the thoughts that he may not see his friends again, if enemy blaster bolts found their intended marks.

* * *

Zaalbar roared, picking up a large metal crate and tossing it like a rag doll toward the nearest group of advancing Vulkars, where it smashed right into a group of three, knocking them all down.

Carth shot them where they landed and whipped around and around, firing volley after volley of blaster bolts.

"Get to a crate! Find cover!" He yelled to the others.

Mission and Zaalbar didn't hesitate. With deadly red blaster bolts flying in the air from all directions, they ran behind the nearest pile of crates.

Carth was in full Republic officer mode, his light brown eyes darting left and right, combing his entire environment. If the space had a Vulkar, it was getting shot.

Carth wheeled to the left. A Vulkar was hiding behind a metal column. A bolt to his head poking out took care of him.

He wheeled to the right. Two Vulkars were in a line, taking aim. Carth dropped to a forward roll as two blaster bolts soared over him. When Carth popped back up in a crouch, he fired twice, planting bolts in both the Vulkars' chests, dropping them.

Carth knew he was exposed. It wouldn't be long until a stray bolt found its way to him.

With that in mind, the man turned and pounded his legs across the grid to where Mission and Zaalbar were, firing more bolts behind him as he tactically retreated.

Right before running into the nearest crate, he jumped and slid across its top on his side before landing in a crouched position on the safe side of cover. Now huddled next to Mission and Zaalbar, Carth gave his next order.

"You see it, you shoot it! On my mark: Three, two, one, go!"

The three popped out from cover, firing all of their respective weapons at the oncoming horde of Vulkars.

* * *

Unfortunately, many of the Hidden Bek soldiers didn't possess the speed of Nic's companions. Many were cut down by blaster fire where they stood, crying out and crumpling to the ground, never to get up again. This surprise attack by the Vulkars had caught many of them off-guard.

Gadon and Carth had discussed this possibility, but never a threat of this number. The Vulkars were using overwhelming force to try to subdue them. They must have emptied half of their base for this fight!

The two Bek soldiers in Gadon's entourage had been among the first to fall from the onslaught. Brejik wheeled on the Bek leader and aimed his pistol.

"Gadon!"

The gang leader found himself being pushed to the ground right before a loud shot rang in his ears. Gadon looked up to see his second-in-command, Zaerdra, fall to her knees, a smoking blaster hole in her chest.

"No! Zaerdra!"

The purple-skinned Twi'lek had no final words to utter as she fell face-forward to her final resting place on the swoop track floor.

Blood rushed to Gadon's face as piping-hot rage filled his every pore. He jumped back to his feet and grabbed his blaster. Brejik shot the gun right out of Gadon's hand, smiling wickedly while the Bek leader glared at him. Brejik was just toying with his old adversary now.

Before he could fire the killing shot, though, a hard force smashed against his feet, tripping him up and sending him crashing to the floor.

Bastila stood over Brejik, holding her vibroblade up high and stabbing it down for the killing stroke to Brejik's head. The Vulkar leader rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the descending blade. Brejik then landed a hard kick to the side of Bastila's head, making her stagger back.

Brejik jumped to his feet. If it was a fight this Jedi bitch wanted, a fight she would get.

Two powerful, armored arms wrapped themselves around his throat and clamped on, forcing Brejik to drop his blaster and grab at them, struggling to breathe. The arms weren't budging, though. For an older man, Gadon was stronger than most would believe.

"Bastila! I've got him! Do it now!" Gadon shouted.

Bastila shook her head, recovering from Brejik's blow. She stared straight ahead and threw her vibroblade, sending it perfectly spinning end-over-end right for Brejik's chest.

The Vulkar leader had one choice. He stabbed a hard elbow into Gadon's gut.

"Auggh!"

The blow caused Gadon to bend forward, making both he and Brejik duck and the blade soar harmlessly over their heads.

Brejik smiled, but his face was starting to turn purple. He then backwards head-butted Gadon, forcing the older gang leader to relinquish his grip.

Now free, Brejik followed up by turning where he stood, snatching up his blaster and firing a bolt right into the chest of the reeling Gadon.

The Hidden Bek leader cried out in pain and stumbled back over a crate, disappearing behind it.

Brejik sneered, but just as he was about to follow Gadon over and finish the job, he felt something heavy smash into the back of his arm, making him fall to his knees while his blaster pistol sailed through the air over the same crates that Gadon had fallen behind.

Brejik turned, seeing Bastila with her right hand outstretched in front of her. The Vulkar leader chastised himself for forgetting the power of the Force that Jedi wield.

He bellowed a command.

"Vulkars! To me!"

In the next few seconds, several members of the Vulkar ambush broke from the rest and ran toward their leader, firing on Bastila.

* * *

_Wonderfully done, Bastila. You effectively disarmed yourself and are now totally exposed to the enemy. What would your master say?_

A few blaster bolts singed the ground mere inches from Bastila's feet.

_Perhaps now is not the best time for self-contemplation._

* * *

Nic watched as Bastila executed a series of fluid back flips and tumbles to escape a round of blaster fire. She wouldn't be able to keep that up forever, though. He had to get to her.

There were three Vulkars currently shooting at the Jedi woman. Nic fired a bolt directly into the back of one and sprinted toward the final two. Just as they got the chance to turn and see him coming, Nic drew his vibroblade with his free hand and sliced the second Vulkar's face in half before turning on the third, firing two rounds right into the Rodian gang member's throat. They had been taken completely by surprise.

* * *

Bastila stood frozen in place. For the moment, it would seem she had just been saved by this man, judging by the three dead Black Vulkars now lying at his feet.

It was not his combat skills, however, that had caused her to be rooted to the ground like a statue.

* * *

Why was she just standing there, staring at him? Did she want to be shot? Nic had thought Jedi were supposed to be smarter than this.

Clearly, he needed to get her behind some cover and fast. She wasn't moving to it on her own. Maybe she was in shock, in light of everything, who knew. Either way, Nic knew what he had to do.

He sheathed his vibroblade and his blaster and rushed forward in a full-blown sprint toward her, scooping her up in his arms and over his shoulders, carrying her.

"What?! What is the meaning of this?!" came her shrill reply.

"I'm getting you out of here."

"Put me down!"

Nic turned and spotted a line of metal crates. Perfect.

A small fist smashed into his back.

"Ow! Hey!" He cried.

"Put. Me. Down!" yelled Bastila.

Nic shook his head and ran for the cover, trying to shake off more little blows from the obviously grateful Jedi.

"Ow! Ow! Hey, will you let up?! I'm only trying to save you here!" Nic argued.

"I hardly believe that," Bastila replied.

They were just a few feet away from the line of crates. It was now or never. Nic kept his feet pounding ahead of him, trying to ignore the growing strain on his shoulders and back.

"Well, believe it, missy," he said through gritted teeth. "Because here...we...GO!"

In one thunderous heave, Nic pushed off from the ground, jumping as high as he could, just barely clearing the top of the crates as he landed hard on the other side, releasing Bastila as the both of them tumbled to their sides.

Nic rolled onto his back, his head and heart pounding. Aside from some loudly complaining ribs, nothing felt broken. Nic closed his eyes and thanked his lucky stars.

"Just call me Mr. Hero," he painfully breathed.

Wincing, Nic hoisted himself up.

"You OK?" He asked Bastila. "Anything sprained or broken?"

"Was that your attempt at rescuing or giving me a concussion?" Bastila glared ahead at Nic defiantly, not appearing hurt at all.

Nic sighed loudly. "Great. Glad to know your charm hasn't suffered at all."

A pained groan off to the side drew Nic's attention.

"Gadon!" He cried out, crawling over to the injured Bek leader currently lying in a heap behind the line of crates.

"What happened?!" Nic asked, hunched over Gadon. He could see a scorched wound on the left side of the Bek leader's abdomen, just below his ribs.

"I'll live," Gadon muttered, though the weakness in his voice was no comfort to Nic. "Brejik never was one for aiming...I guess I should count myself lucky."

"Let me get a look at it," Nic said, craning his neck over the gang leader to judge the seriousness of the wound.

"Zaerdra's dead," Gadon croaked out.

Nic paused. For his part, the purple Twi'lek had been nothing short of a bully. Now, she was a casualty. Nic knew people would die on this swoop track today. He'd witnessed it first-hand on his way over here. The Beks weren't faring well right now.

Though she had been rough and brash, Nic knew Zaerdra meant a lot to Gadon. For that, Nic hung his head and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Gadon."

"Where are the others?" The Bek leader asked.

Nic looked around them but there was no sign of Carth, Mission or Zaalbar.

"I left them on the other side of the grid to get here," Nic explained, rummaging in the pouches on his belt for what he was needing. "But we'll need to rendezvous with them and make our stand. We'll fight better together."

"I should have known the Vulkars would pull this," Gadon said, his words laced with pained regret, not knowing how many of his own men would be dead by the end of the day because of his oversight.

"Hold still," Nic said, pulling a small syringe from a pouch. "I've got a medpack."

* * *

Bastila tilted her head, watching this man bent over the gang leader who had restrained Brejik earlier. Her apparent "rescuer" jammed a medpack into the gang leader's stomach.

The Jedi found herself increasingly perplexed over what she was seeing. Who was this man? How did he know this gang leader? What was his part in all of this?

Now that her "rescuer" wasn't looking, Bastila brought up a hand to the back of her head, gingerly nursing the throbbing pain there.

* * *

Carth slid down the side of his crate cover as a couple more showers of sparks raind over him and Mission and Zaalbar. Blaster bolts were singing the top of the crate as the loud bangs of battle cascaded across the grid.

"Maybe we can outlast them!" Mission called out over the din. Zaalbar growled in agreement.

Carth tiredly shook his head. "All the Beks that were on the track have been cut down. It seems like we're the last ones standing...and there's still probably a dozen Vulkars out there!"

Carth looked around for some sign of Nic and Bastila. If Nic managed to get to her, maybe the two of them could get out of here alive.

The Republic officer said a silent prayer for his friend as he jumped up from behind cover again, firing more blasts into the battle.

* * *

Nic crawled his way back over to Bastila. The two of them now sat side-by-side behind the crate.

"He'll be alright," Nic told her, referring to Gadon. "But he's in no condition to be moving anywhere on his own."

Nic leaned over the crate and fired a few more blasts at the Vulkars. Bastila stayed silent until he came back down.

"You're...you're one of the soldiers with the Republic Fleet, aren't you? Who are you?" she asked.

Nic cocked a lopsided grin.

"I'm Nic Corsai."

He fired a couple more shots over the crate.

"I'm here to rescue you."

Bastila snorted. "Rescue me? Is that what you were trying to accomplish by riding in that swoop race?"

A small shower of sparks exploded above their heads as blaster bolts made contact with the crate, making them both immediately hit the deck.

Bastila looked up from the ground, straight into Nic's face.

"Well, as far as rescues go, this is a very poor example," she said.

Nic was starting to get angry. "Excuse me, Little Miss High and Mighty, last time I checked, you were in a cage."

"But I was never really trapped, was I?" Bastila countered. "In case you hadnt noticed, I managed to free myself from those neural restraints without your help."

"Then why the kriff didn't you free yourself, then?" Nic defiantly asked.

Bastila looked off to the side, as if she was slightly embarrassed.

"I needed a...distraction," she admitted.

"Well, happy to provide, I guess," Nic bitterly grunted. "Would you like me to step in front of the bolts for you now, too?"

This wasn't at all what he expected for his first meeting with this Jedi. He had predicted gratitude. A lot of gratitude, but it seemed like this Jedi was just as snoody as their reputation suggested.

"Not to interrupt or anything," Gadon grunted. "But do we have a plan to get out of this?"

Just like that, Nic's mind was tuned back to the task at hand.

"We need to get back to Carth and the others," came his reply.

"Carth Onasi is alive?" Bastila suddenly asked. "Finally, some good news!"

"Yep," Nic nodded. "And we have to find some way to cross the grid and get back to where he is."

Bastila's excitement instantly faded. "That's incredibly risky."

"You got a better plan, Princess?" Nic snarled.

"Look, you two," Gadon interrupted again. "There's a lot of Vulkars between here and the other side of the grid. Not to mention I'm not going to be moving very fast. For kriff's sake, we don't even know how many Vulkars are on the other side of this crate."

"Four."

"Four."

Nic and Bastila looked at each other. They had said the same thing at the same time.

"How...how do you know that?" Gadon asked, his eyes wide.

Bastila crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring straight at Nic and cocking an eyebrow.

"I can sense them through the Force," she stated. "How is that you know?"

Nic looked from Gadon to Bastila, temporarily frozen where he was crouching. Though he knew now was not the time to explain it, he just...knew.

"Erm...lucky guess," was all he said.

"Well, if we're going to be regrouping, we're going to need some cover fire," Gadon informed them, pulling out a small device the size of a credit chit. The gang leader pressed it and a blinking blue light appeared.

"Distress beacon," Gadon explained, chuckling weakly. "A full platoon of Bek reinforcements are on their way."

Warm hope swelled up in Nic's chest as a smile reached his face.

"Perfect! Once the cavalry shows up, we'll wipe the track with these Vulkars!" He said.

Nic turned back to Bastila. "Ready to continue your rescue, Princess?"

* * *

_Continue my rescue? What nerve!_

Bastila scoffed at Nic and turned away from him, neatly folding her legs under her and placing her arms on her thighs.

"Actually, it's more accurate to call it your rescue. When our reinforcements arrive, I'll make sure they win the day."

Bastila closed her eyes, beginning her concentration.

"Hold this area," she instructed Nic. "My concentration must not be broken in order for this to work."

* * *

"Are...are you...meditating?!" Nic spluttered, seeing what Bastila was doing.

The Jedi woman didn't answer. Her eyes maintained their serene closure. Not a single feature on her face moved even a muscle.

Nic had had it. "Why the kriffing kriff are you picking NOW to MEDITATE?!"

A loud explosion shook the grid, knocking Nic to his knees.

"Here comes the cavalry," Gadon said, chuckling.

* * *

Carth popped his head up from behind cover to find out what had caused such a loud explosion.

His heart soared when he saw dozens of Bek gang members charge the racing grid, yelling in the native tongues of whatever race they were and firing their weapons.

Carth couldn't explain why, but in this moment, he felt a new sense of courage and drive welling up from within. He suddenly felt with all confidence that they could win the day and there was nothing the Vulkars could do about it.

"Come on!" he yelled to Mission and Zaalbar. "We don't need cover anymore! Let's take it to 'em!"

"Yeah!" Mission yelled, feeling like she could take on the world.

Zaalbar growled his agreement.

The three leaped over their cover and fired their weapons into the last of the Vulkars in front of them. Vulkar after Vulkar fell to the new Bek charge. Some were even dropping their weapons and running for their lives, only to be cut down.

And just like that, in only a few minutes, the battle was over.

* * *

Nic couldn't believe what he was looking at. He didn't even have to fire his weapon once.

Once the Bek reinforcements arrived, it seemed like all of the momentum of the battle had instantly swung in their favor and forsaken the Vulkars. Many of them had looked terrified right before they were killed.

Nic knew a fresh rally could tip the scale in battle...but never that quickly and that completely.

Bastila's eyes snapped open.

"I know where Brejik's hiding," she said. "Let's go get him."

* * *

Restrained by two Bek members, Brejik was thrown to his knees on the ground. The Vulkar leader looked up into the faces of his enemies.

Nic, Bastila, Carth, Mission, Zaalbar, Gadon and the Bek reinforcements stood in a circle, surrounding him.

Brejik sneered. "Well then, aren't you going to finish me off?"

"Not us," Nic said, turning to Gadon. "Him."

Nic held his blaster out to the Bek leader, who was currently being supported by two of his own.

"Gadon, the honor belongs to you," Nic said.

Gadon stared at the blaster for a moment and then nodded to his escorts. He limped forward and took the blaster from Nic, leveling it at Brejik's head between his eyes.

"This is for Zaerdra, you son of a bitch," Gadon said.

In a surprising twist, Gadon didn't fire. Instead, he curled his arm back and whipped the barrel of the gun across Brejik's face, knocking him to the ground as blood spattered from his mouth.

"Take out this trash," Gadon ordered his men. "Dump him in the Undercity."

But the Vulkar leader wasn't done. As he lay there, coughing in a small pool of his own blood, he uttered one more sentence.

"Death...to you all."

Brejik opened his hands, which had been closed behind his back, and a small metal sphere rolled away from his body to the middle of the circle.

"Grenade!" Carth shouted. "Move!"

Nic shoved Gadon out of the way and in one swift motion dove onto the grenade, covering it with his body. He frantically waved at everyone.

"Get away! Now!" He yelled.

Everyone in the circle jumped back, trying to get away from the inevitable blast. For several horrifying moments of silence, everyone was frozen, waiting for the explosion that was sure to take the young Republic ensign with it.

But nothing happened. Nic opened his tightly shut eyes and looked around. He had been anticipating a big white flash to take him, but there was only stillness.

Nic looked down at the sphere stuck under his belly. It wasn't even blinking or anything.

"Get off of that, Nic," Carth instructed from behind him, his voice taut with nerves. "Very, very slowly."

Nic did as he was told, slowly lifting his body off the grenade and then steadily crawling backward away from it. Again, the sphere did nothing but sit there.

Carth appeared at Nic's side, grabbing his friend's shoulder and pulling him back.

"It must have been a dud," the Republic officer said. "We're clear, everyone!"

The circle of soldiers relaxed and started getting back off the ground. Mission looked around, noting a distinct difference in the group.

"Hey, wheres Brejik?" she asked.

Nic turned to spot the Vulkar leader sprinting away.

_Oh no you don't._

Nic aimed his blaster carefully and shot. The bolt sailed through the air, straight into the Vulkar leader's back.

Brejik crumpled to the ground. This time, he didn't get up.

"It's over!" Gadon cried out. "The Beks have won the day!"

The group shouted and cheered, whooping wth each other in ecstasy over their victory.

In all the din, Nic felt himself being turned around to come face-to-face with Carth. In the next minute, the Republic officer was hugging him.

"Don't you ever do that again, you hear me?" Carth ordered, his voice ripe. "Nobody likes a hero, soldier. Especially a dead one."

Nic laughed and wrapped his own arms around his friend.

"I'll try to remember that."

"You better."

The two men parted. Nic looked around at all the cheering men and women, hugging one another with the biggest smiles on their faces. They had earned this victory. It was their right to celebrate now.

* * *

Bastila slowly approached the Republic soldier. It was true that the battle was over and they had won. She was still alive. She supposed that was, in part, thanks to the man who called himself Nic.

Even in the midst of victory, the Jedi coudln't help but feel a small sense of regret. She had been rather hard on the man who had tried to get her to safety. He had proven himself to be a capable soldier. More than that, he had just proven himself to be an honorable man.

He just threw himself on that grenade. No hesitation, no thoughts, just action. It had been instinct for him to sacrifice himself for the safety of everyone else.

Bastila found that to be admirable. It was the only reason she was now approaching him to try to make amends.

"I...I believe I owe you an apology," she stated stiffly, now standing before Nic.

Nic looked right at her. She couldn't help but sense something behind his blue eyes. When they looked at her, it was like they were studying her in her entirety, but it didn't feel invasive at all.

Nic smirked. "Well, an apology would be a start."

Bastila frowned, turning angry. Here she was, trying to be a bigger person in all this, and he was just goading her!

But it appeared that Nic wasn't finished.

"Thank you," he told her.

Bastila softened, giving him a polite nod before her eyes were drawn to a bloody scratch on his forehead.

"Your head," she pointed.

She watched as Nic instinctively looked up and brought a hand to his forehead, his fingers coated in red when he brought it back down.

"Oh...kriff...must have happened when I ran for the grenade," he said.

"Here, let me help," Bastila offered, stretching out her palm, intending to use the Force to heal the wound.

Nic looked at her hand cautiously at first, not saying anything. Whether it was because he believed he could trust her or her apology had struck a chord in him, he relented.

"Sure, if you can."

Bastila brought a hand to his head wound and closed her eyes, concentrating on letting her Force flow into him.

Immediately, she felt his body go rigid. That wasn't normal.

Bastila opened her eyes to see the man tumble to the ground, completely limp.

His eyes were closed.

He wasn't moving.


	13. Chapter 13: A Brutal Warning

Yet another murky dream.

Bastila swung her canary yellow lightsaber through the air with deadly precision, matching her Sith opponent strike for strike effortlessly. It would not be long before the useless minion served its purpose as cannon fodder.

Sure enough, the Sith warrior was dispatched from this life, Bastila victorious.

But the Dark Lord was far from intimidated. A simple outstretched hand was enough to clamp the throat of the nearest Jedi shut. The fool choked and spluttered, grabbing at his neck fruitlessly until his lungs gave out and he feel to the cole metal floor of the Dark Lord's ship.

Bastila now stood flanked by two other Jedi, their own purple and green sabers ignited. A third ran up behind them and powered on her own weapon.

The Dark Lord now stood down a team of four Jedi Knights, alone on his own island.

Bastila pointed an accusatory finger.

"You cannot win, Revan!" She shouted.

The Dark Lord said nothing, not even dignifying the Jedi with a response. His conversation piece was a threatening Makashi twirl of his single blade crimson saber. He held the saber out in front of him, prepared for battle, for anything these sniveling Jedi could put forth.

He would never get that chance.

A blinding white flash exploded in the midst of everyone as the ship gave a thundering lurch and all were knocked to the floor.

For some reason, whether it was due to her training or some precognition through the Force, Bastila was the only one to maintain some semblance of balance, falling forward to her palms and knees instead of being knocked on her back.

She slowly heaved herself back on her feet and saw the Dark Lord lying at the head of the ship, silent and unmoving.

It could be a clever Sith trap, though. Moving cautiously, Bastila made her way closer to the Sith until she was standing right over him. Still, he did not move a muscle.

Bastila's gray eyes scanned the Sith's body from end to end. Could he be dead at long last? Or was he simply...incapacitated?

* * *

Nic's eyes slowly cracked open, the bluriness in his vision beginning to clear.

Once again, he felt himself lying on some kind of bed staring up at a ceiling he didn't recognize.

"Oh...kriff..." He raspily muttered.

"Wakey wakey, sunshine," a female voice rang out in the room with him.

Nic turned his head to see Mission sitting backwards in a chair in front of his bed, her arms resting on the chair's top.

"Mmph...thanks, I guess."

Nic slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position on the bed, blearily looking around, trying to recognize the room.

"You know, just once, I'd like to wake up and think to myself 'Oh, hey, yeah, this is right. I planned this!'"

Mission laughed. "Yeah...you were kind of freaking us out for a minute there."

"What happened this time?" Nic asked, frustrated with what had to be the third time he'd woken up like this.

"You want the truth, or a slightly altered version that won't emasculate ya?" Mission playfully asked, smiling.

Nic arched an eyebrow. "Give it to me straight."

"You fainted."

"I...fainted?"

Mission nodded. "Yep. You weren't budging an inch. Fell right there on the starting grid while everyone was cheering. Big Z had to throw you over his shoulder while we made tracks. We had to leave before the Sith showed up to check out what happened."

Nic nodded sluggishly as the memories began returning to him.

"Gadon...and the others..."

"All made it out safely," Mission happily reported. "I imagine they're hunkered down, laying low in their base for a while."

Nic saw Mission's eyes dart down before coming back up.

"Does it hurt?" She softly asked.

Hurt? Nic looked down, suddenly realizing he was shirtless. He saw what Mission must have seen. There were three dark claw marks in a line down the left side of his abdomen. Even though the old rakghoul injury had completely healed, there was a sickly white little circle around each mark, as if the immediate skin around it would be dead permanently.

"Kriff," Nic cursed. "Guess I'm leaving Taris with a souvenir."

Mission looked on at Nic with concern. She had only been traveling with him and Carth for a short time, only a few days, but it felt like much longer than that.

In that time, Nic had shown her that he was a man who would always take one for the team, that would sacrifice his own life for the sake of theirs. She saw it first-hand with the grenade.

She had to admit to herself that it made her feel safe around him, like everything was going to be alright as long as Nic was standing.

Also, she couldn't help but admire how he looked without a shirt.

Mission coughed awkwardly, shaking that thought from her head.

"Erm...anyway, Carth and Bastila are in the living room." She said. "You should probably get dressed. They'll be happy to see you up."

Nic was pulled away from his studying of his new scar.

"Hmm? Oh...right. Yeah. I'll get right on that."

Mission stood up and headed for the door.

"See ya out there!" She called back.

Nic stood up from the bed, the joints in his legs feeling like they were made of rusty metal. He found the shirt to his combat armor on a nearby dresser. He grabbed it just as Mission poked her head back in the doorway.

"Oh, and, uh, thank you," She managed.

Nic turned to her, now fully dressed. "Thanks for what?"

"Back there, with the grenade and everything. Thank you," She explained.

Nic smiled warmly, nodding his head. "Anytime."

* * *

"The risks could be paramount, Carth. A man of your reputation should know that."

"I'm well aware of the dangers, but this could also be our ticket out!"

The sounds of an argument met Nic as he stepped out from the bedroom, looking out through the giant window at the front of the room, where all of Taris was sprawled out before them.

Carth and Bastila ceased their discussion as they saw Nic walk into the room.

"Hey there!" Carth called out, beaming. "Good morning!"

Bastila neatly folded her hands behind her back, nodding.

"It is good to see you awake," she said.

Nic laughed and pointed around the room.

"No way," He said, looking at Carth. "Is this..."

"The old apartment? You bet. Where else would we go?" Carth said, chuckling.

Nic couldn't believe this was the same apartment he and Carth had taken shelter in right after they crash-landed on this kriffing planet. Back then they had barely known a thing about each other. It felt like a lifetime ago to Nic now.

Nic shook himself awake from his musings to speak to his companions, walking over to them. He couldn't help but be put off by Bastila's presence at the moment. She was standing in new clothes now, much different than the slave outfit she had been stuck in at the swoop race.

Brown leather combat robes that looked much more regal and fitting of a Jedis stature. It was also the same outfit Nic had just see her wearing in his dreams.

_Boy, would that ever be an awkward conversation starter._

"So, what were you two snarling about?" Nic asked.

Bastila wrinkled her nose. "Snarling? I would hardly call it that."

Carth shook his head. He knew the Jedi wasn't used to his friend's innocent humor.

"Bastila and I were just talking about how to get off this planet once and for all," Carth explained.

"And it surprises me that the both of you don't have a plan to get off Taris yet," Bastila continued, the condescending inflection in her voice rising. "What have you been doing all this time?"

_Oh great_, Nic thought. _The Ice Queen cometh again._

"We were trying to find you, remember?" Nic said.

Bastila turned to him sharply. "I see. Well then, now that I'm back in charge of this mission, we can start doing things properly."

"Properly?!" Nic asked, taken aback. "So what do you call us risking our necks to get you here?"

Zaalbar uttered a low growl of agreement from the chair he was sitting in. He and Mission were just letting the three has it out.

Carth held up a hand. "Easy now. Bastila, I know you're new at this, but a leader doesn't berate her troops just because things aren't going as planned. Don't let your ego get in the way of the real issues here."

Bastila cocked an eyebrow, turning squarely to Carth, hands on her hips.

"That hardly strikes me as an appropriate way of addressing your commander, Carth," she said. "I am a member of the Jedi order and this is my mission."

"Your mission?!" Nic challenged. "Your mission was to get captured by the Sith. Our mission was springing you out!"

Carth continued on what Nic said. "A good leader would at least listen to the advice of those who have seen more combat than she ever will."

Nic crossed his arms. "You aren't showing much leadersip ability right now, seeing as how it took all of us nearly dying to get you standing here."

Bastila looked from Nic to Carth, anger clearly flashing across her fair face. Nic was guessing the Jedi hadn't often been told "No" in her life. He was already sick and tired of her attitude.

Finally, Bastila sighed, cradling her temples in her fingers, adopting a much softer tone.

"Yes...yes. You're right, of course," she relented. "I apologize to the both of you. This has been a difficult time for me."

_Well, at least she can swallow her pride_, Nic thought.

* * *

Despite all of her Jedi training, Bastila found herself still getting flustered and frustrated over the course of this mission. What Carth said was correct. This mission was not proceeding according to any plans she had set to it. She had been marooned on Taris, captured by the Black Vulkars and made to pretend to be a prisoner until the right opportunity presented itself.

At least now she was free of all that and on the way to fixing all of this. She needed to get back to the Jedi Council, to Dantooine, back to the place where everything made sense.

"Of course, I am happy to listen to both of your advice," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat that had formed faced with the two soldiers' logic. "What do you both suggest?"

"First of all, we can't get hung up on who's in charge," Carth replied. "We all need to work together if we want to get off this rock."

Bastila managed a genuine smile and nodded toward the Republic officer.

"Well said, Carth, and I couldn't agree more," she said.

Carth looked back to the apartment door and faced Nic.

"With that in mind, Nic, we've been meaning to show you something once you woke up. Something happened overnight while we were crashing here...and I think you should see it."

Despite the look of confusion on Nic's face, Bastila knew full well what it was too. She and Carth had been among the first of their little group to wake up this morning and found a surprise on their doorstep.

"Erm, OK." Nic said.

"It's right out here," Carth said gravely, sudenly turning ashen-faced. He exited the room, followed by Mission and Zaalbar, leaving Nic and Bastila alone in the room.

Nic made to follow him until Bastila stepped in front of him. She couldn't help herself. The guilt was beginning to rage inside her. The last feeling she needed distracting her on the battlefield was guilt.

* * *

Nic suddenly found himself with a Jedi woman standing right in his path. She looked like she had something to say and he wasn't going to see this surprise until she had her way.

"I feel I must...apologize to you...again," she state awkwardly. Her voice bore the unusual waver of uncertainty.

Nic didn't feel the need to make her stew. He knew what she meant.

"Yeah, about me fainting and all," he began. "The last thing I remember was talking to you on the swoop track grid."

"Yes, I do believe I am to blame for your spell," Bastila explained. "I believe perhaps your mind reacted badly to the Force Healing I was trying to give you."

The Jedi looked down. Nic saw this was clearly hard for her to admit.

"I should have foreseen this," Bastila sullenly admitted. "I am a Jedi Knight and should have taken more precautions. For that, I apologize and I assure you I will take great care next time."

As much as Nic was annoyed with the Jedi woman, he didn't feel the need to pile it on her. Still, he felt like he needed to talk with her about his dreams. There had to be a reason why she had been in them even before they'd met.

Besides the fact that she was beautiful and those robes clung to her shapely figure in a...

_OK, enough of that._

"Well, there's also something I need to talk to you about," Nic began, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

That made Bastila's face rise to meet his, her gray eyes glinting with curiosity.

"Something happened when you tried to heal me," he continued. "Like a vision or something."

Bastila arched an eyebrow. "A vision? A vision of what?"

_Come on, Nic. May as well lay it out. All aboard for Crazy Town._

"Of you," Nic said. "Fighting a Dark Jedi. Revan, I guess."

He thought he would hold off the details of just how many dreams he had had of her.

Bastila's eyes narrowed. Those shimmering gray eyes seemed to be studying him now, picking him apart piece by piece.

"This is...strange," she said in almost an awed whisper. "Such visions are often a sign of Force Sensitivity."

Nic burst out laughing. He couldn't help himself. Whether it was from the overpowering stress of their mission or the absurdity of the Jedi's statement, Nic didn't know. All he knew was he couldn't stop.

Bastila's face scrunched together like he'd just spit on her grandmother's grave.

"And what exactly is so funny?!" She challenged.

Nic held up an apologetic hand, his chest still heaving with laughter.

"I'm sorry..." he breathed, struggling to do so. "Its just...you said...whew!"

"I fail to see the humor in what I said!" Bastila huffed.

Nic held up both hands once he had finally calmed himself down.

"No, I'm sorry, I really am," he placated, still smiling. "Maybe the mission's stress is getting to me, but you are way off, missy."

Bastila crossed her arms. "'Way off?' How am I 'way off?'"

Nic shrugged. "No offense, but not everything in the universe can be explained by your heeby-jeeby juju magic."

Bastila's eyes turned the size of dinner plates. "Is THAT your idea of joking about the Force?!"

The Jedi cradled her temples in her hands again.

"Never mind," she bitterly spat. "Clearly, someone of your intelligence would never be gifted by the Force."

Anger flashed across Nic's face as well. Clearly, he'd struck a nerve with what he said, but he had little love for this Jedi and her elitist attitude.

"Anytime, you two!" Carth called from outside.

Nic turned to Bastila. "Well then, if you wouldn't mind stepping aside so the stupid people can continue our mission, I'd appreciate it," he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Bastila stepped away from him, glaring.

"Be my guest."

* * *

When Nic left the apartment with Bastila, stepping out into the same hallway where they first saw the Sith officers molesting a pair of aliens, the first sense to strike him was the smell.

Something smelled rotten.

When Nic turned and saw what the others were staring at, he immediately understood where it was coming from. He almost recoiled in disgust.

The body of Brejik, the high leader of the Black Vulkars, was hanging on the wall right by their door.

His head hung limp, his limbs sagging under gravity's weight from the nails that were holding him to the wall. Several flies were making flight patterns around his head.

"Holy kriff," Nic coughed.

"I know," Carth said, shaking his head at the display. "Even a guy like Brejik didn't deserve this kind of desecration."

"Why is he here?!" Nic asked.

"Carth and I were asking ourselves the same," Bastila informed him, all business with Nic now that the mission was back on track.

Carth handed Nic a single sheet of flimsiplast.

"This was attached to his chest when we found him an hour ago," Carth said. "It's written in Mandalorian. I could only pick apart a phrase or two."

Nic studied the hand-scrawled note. Each word was written in broad and bold letters.

Nic translated out loud:

"_Looks like you boys know your way with a peashooter, but you're getting stupid_," Nic began, looking up at Carth. The Republic officer was shaking his head.

"_Don't think no one noticed your little stunt on the swoop track_," Nic continued. "_There are worse things than what the Sith can do to you. If you value your lives, meet me in the cantina in the Upper City. I've got an offer you can't refuse. I've got a way to get you off Taris_."

Nic pocketed the flimsiplast. "That's all it says."

Carth stroked his goatee in the thought. "Peashooters...where have we heard that before?"

Nic nodded, the memory still clear in his mind. "Looks like we're heading to the cantina."

"That would be unwise," Bastila criticized. "This could be a Sith trap."

Nic gave Bastila a look. "If whoever left us this note is who Carth and I think it is, he doesn't work for the Sith."

Bastila crossed her arms. "And how can you be so sure?"

Nic pointed to Brejik's hanging body. "Bastila, Carth, you both know the Sith better than I do. Would they be so impulsive as to leave this brutal display lying around?"

Carth nodded slowly, seeing Nic's point. The Sith could be ruthless, but this kind of animal-like display was usually beneath them.

Bastila wasn't convinced. "Circumstantial evidence, at best."

"But it's all we've got, and it's worth a try," Carth pointed out. "We can't stay here either way. Unless any of you have a way of getting Brejik down from there, the Sith will notice this and come knocking eventually."

Nic nodded. "Then it's settled. To the cantina we go."

Bastila sighed loudly. "If either of you compromise this mission..."

"We won't," Nic cut her off.

Mission chimed in. "Um...you going to fill us in on who this guy is?"

"On the way," Nic said.

* * *

**A/N: OK, not much happened in this chapter besides more character bonding. Hope that didn't bore you! I gave you another Nic/Bastila argument, though! The next one promises to be much more entertaining as we're going to be bringing in the next character into the story permanently! **

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed saying they love my characterization of Nic. Don't forget to leave constructive criticism as well. I love to hear how you guys like the story!**

**Cheers!**

**-LCB**


	14. Chapter 14: Do NOT Interrupt Beer Time

**A/N: I do not own KOTOR in any way, shape or form outside of the disc in my tray.**

* * *

If you've seen one cantina on Taris, you've seen them all.

To its credit, however, the cantina in the Upper City did its best to at least stay cleaner than the Lower City's. The lights were a brighter dim and the bar surface was as clean as he'd ever seen.

Hopefully, in turn, the clientele in the Upper City wouldn't be as keen to turn in a Jedi for a quick credit. Nic could only hope. His steps were cautious but not overly obvious as he and his friends made their way into the cantina.

Bastila had the small brown leather hood of her combat robes up over her face since they left the apartments. It would be suicide to assume the Sith wouldn't have her face on file somewhere. Though it was a necessary precaution, Nic coulnd't help but feel a laugh coming on each time he looked at her. Without the billowing robes accompanying the rest of her body, the hood looked out of place.

"You know, standing around here in a big group that includes a Twi'lek and a Wookiee probably isn't the best option for flying under the radar," Carth commented, almost reading Nic's mind.

"I wholeheartedly agree, Carth," Bastila said, her gray eyes shifting left to right.

Nic looked around from patron to patron in the cantina. It was the usual set up. The bar served as the central column of the entire circular metal room they stood in. Various tables and booths lined the walls of the room where all sorts of alien life were kicking back or discussing business over multiple colors of drinks. Their alien languages were the background noise for the cantina, not loud enough that the group couldn't hear themselves over but hopefully loud enough to mask any sensitive details they chose to discuss.

Despite his search, Nic couldn't find head nor hide of the man he believed they were looking for, the man who possibly left them that gruesome message to meet him here. It might not be that man at all and they could very well be walking into a trap, as Bastila suggested.

Even if the man they were to meet was who Nic thought it was, trust was still an issue as the man's true motivations had yet to be revealed.

"I can't see him," Nic said. "Is he even here? Did we come too late?"

Carth shook his head, looking around. "The way I see it, this is one of those talks where he'll come to us. He obviously wanted pretty badly for us to meet him here. I doubt he'd just give up and leave."

Zaalbar let out a low growl that resounded in perfect Basic to Nic's ears.

"In that case, I'm starving," the Wookiee stated.

Mission chuckled. "Big Z says he's hungry."

The large Wookiee lumbered past the group straight for the bar. A growl asserted itself in the pit of Nic's stomach. Bringing a hand up to rest on his abdomen, Nic chuckled himself.

"I guess I'm hungry too," he said.

"Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time any of us had a decent meal," Carth admitted, looking a little hungrily at the grills behind the bar.

"Then it's settled!" Nic said, making a beeline straight for the bar, sitting on a barstool a couple seats away from Zaalbar. Carth and Mission joined him on either side, leaving Bastila the lone member of the group behind, her arms crossed.

Nic was grateful to see that the waiter was human, albeit a very large and scruffy-looking human.

"What'll ya take?" He asked gruffly.

"Nerf steaks, four of them," Nic said, pointing toward himself and his friends. "And the finest Corellian Ales for myself, my friend here and our fuzzy companion at the end!"

"And one for me!" Mission chimed in.

"Don't listen to her. She's a naive minor. Soda for her," Nic assertively countered.

Mission turned to him. "Hey, you owe me a drink, remember?"

"I do. The soda's your drink," Nic said.

"I'm not a minor," Mission argued. "Humans and Twi'leks are different!"

"And I'm buying the drinks with my swoop winnings," Nic playfully retorted. "Soda."

The bartender's beady black eyes had been swiveling back and forth between the two while they argued. The big man huffed and got to their orders once they were finished.

Bastila turned from left to right as she stood behind the others, her cautious nature prickling at the thought of being discovered at any time. How could they possibly think of publicly ordering takeout with the circumstances as they were?! She huffed and made her way over right as the food and drinks were served.

Zaalbar and Mission hungrily tore into their steaks while Nic picked up his frosty mug of ale and held it up to Carth.

"Here's to finally getting that beer, Carth, and sharing it with good friends!" he said.

"I'll definitely drink to that," Carth happily replied, clinking his mug to Nic's.

"Excuse me, but how exactly is this flying under the radar?" Bastila indignantly asked, suddenly standing behind them.

Nic looked like he was about to go haywire.

"Is she...interrupting Beer Time?" He asked Carth, as if he was about to scream.

Nic spun on his stool to face Bastila. "Why are you interrupting Beer Time?!"

"Oh, I'm interrupting the meal that could jeopardize our cover, am I?" Bastila asked, crossing her arms and fixing Nic with a look that could sink star cruisers. "Do forgive me."

"I'm sorry, this is the normal people's table," Nic replied in a demeaning way, pointing. "The table for snoody Jedi is over there."

"I understand the need for caution, Bastila," Carth placated, holding up a hand to try to calm the situation. "But if we don't eat somehow, sometime, we'll never make it off Taris."

Caught between Carth's logic and Nic's insults, Bastila clenched her fists together and nearly shook.

"If you want the Sith to discover us and have us all killed, that is your decision," she seethed. "But I will be busy blending in, like we're supposed to be doing!"

With that, she stormed off away from the bar, disappearing into its hazy mist of death stick smoke and steam.

Nic turned back around to face the bar.

"Sheesh, she sure does complain a lot. She's gonna go hungry," Mission muttered through mouthfulls. Zaalbar growled his agreement.

"She's getting on my last nerve," Nic said, taking a long drink of his ale.

"You know, you could stand to try having a little more patience with her," Carth commented after taking a drink himself.

"I can't stand her, Carth." Nic stated plainly. "I think she's the prettiest girl I've ever hated."

"C'mon, you don't mean that," Carth said.

"I do!"

"Is she the first Jedi you've ever been around?"

Nic thought for a moment, taking another drink. "Yeah, I guess."

"Well she's not for me," Carth explained. "Listen, I know she can be stubborn and she comes off arrogant, but you don't know what it's like growing up as a Jedi."

"Oh, and you do? Mr. Expert?" Nic asked.

"I've talked to enough of them in my time to know," Carth patiently answered. "These guys were raised in the academies. Their training is all they've known their entire lives. They're ripped away from their families as kids and taken to a place where they're told every day how special they are and how they have this strange power inside them."

Carth took another swig before continuing. "Their lives become a rulebook. Strict masters, constant training, and all the while they learn they can do things hardly anyone else in the galaxy can do. If you ask me, while Bastila's behavior may be annoying to you and me, it's the perfect result of that kind of life."

Admittedly, Nic never considered that. He'd never thought about it. He'd never known about Bastila's past. All he knew was that she was a woman they needed to rescue and, now that they had, she was being a pain in the ass every step of the way.

Whatever her upbringing was like, Nic was sure it was a world he would never understand.

"I guess you...could be right..." Nic began.

A loud chime resounded throughout the cantina, cutting off the conversation. A pleasant woman's voice spoke over an intercom in Basic.

"Calling the Mysterious Stranger! Attention, Mysterious Stranger! Your Pazaak game is ready!"

Nic looked up at the ceiling, confused.

"The _kriff_? I didn't sign up for a Pazaak game."

The woman's voice spoke up again, as if in answer. "Your opponent, VulkarSlayer, is waiting for you to join them at Table 4."

Nic and Carth locked eyes. VulkarSlayer? That could be the one who'd left the leader of the Black Vulkars, Brejik, hanging on the wall by their apartment door.

"Go," Carth said. "I'll keep an eye on Bastila. If anything goes wrong, give us a shout."

"Alright," Nic nodded, standing off the stool and looking around for the Pazaak tables.

"I'll finish your beer for you," Carth surreptitiously added.

"Like kriff you will."

Nic reached back and chugged the ale, smacking the mug back down on the bar. "I earned that."

* * *

When Nic found the line of Pazaak tables, he saw there was only one open. He mustered himself up and walked over to it.

He immediately recognized the man seated at the other end of the table. They had met before, down in the Lower City. The man had saved them from a Vulkar attack and left as quickly as he'd emerged.

Gray crew-cut hair.

Leather vest.

Biceps the size of watermelons.

Mr. Big Gun, the man they suspected.

Nic sat down at the table. "A pleasure to meet you...Slayer."

The man tipped his head, his face shrouded slightly in the dim lighting of the cantina. "You as well, Stranger. Let's begin the game!"

"We really don't have to. I think I know why I'm here," Nic argued. "Now how about you tell me what exactly it is you want?"

Nic thought he could almost hear a growl coming from the man at the other end.

"It's rude to refuse your host, Nic."

The Republic ensign cocked an eyebrow. "So you do remember my name. I don't suppose you could tell me yours this time?"

"Play me, win, and maybe you'll find out," the "Slayer" said. "Otherwise, if I don't get a good game in, I might get so bored as to talk to the nearest Sith patrol. I've got some juicy gossip about a Jedi woman they might be interested in."

Nic's blood froze. He had no choice. He drew four cards from the side deck and icily stared ahead at the "Slayer," nodding toward the center deck.

"Draw," Nic commanded.

"'Atta boy," the man said, smiling and drawing his own cards from his side deck and then drawing one from the middle deck, laying it face up.

"9," the man said.

Nic drew from the center as well, laying it down. It was a measley 4.

"Well, then," the man crooned, smiling cockily. "I guess the first turn goes to me."

The man drew from the deck again and laid down a card, a 1.

"Slayer" looked at his hand, carefully looking for the right card as he spoke. "I saw you in the swoop race. Very impressive. Looks like you fly swoops better than you fight women."

"For kriff's sake, doesn't anyone on this planet have better things to talk about? She got the jump on me!" Nic spluttered.

"And you best hope I don't get the jump on you here, if you want what you're looking for," the man said, playing his first card, a +6.

_Kriff_, Nic thought, _he's already off to a good start_.

Nic never was much of a Pazaak player. The rules were pretty straight-forward. You have four cards. By the time you run out of them or by the time you Stand your set, you better not be higher than 20. The player with the greatest number value at the end of the set won.

Nic would play with his fellow grunts during their downtime in Basic, but he was nowhere near good enough to put money at stake in a cantina. Now, it seemed, he was playing for much more than credits.

"I'll end my turn there," the man said, leaning back in his chair.

Nic drew his own card from the center deck and laid it down, a 5.

He looked at his cards. He had a +5, -2, +1 and +3 in his hand. He hadn't been playing the game long enough to know if that was a bad hand.

But Nic knew he needed to win. He needed to be bold. He needed to send a message. He laid the +5 down, making his score a 10.

"Ha! A man not afraid to start out strong! I can admire that!" the man complimented.

"You would know a thing or two about strength, wouldn't you?" Nic asked, trying to keep up an emotionless mask. "Couldn't have been easy hauling Brejik up on that wall."

"Got your attention, didn't it?" the man challenged.

Nic just sighed and shook his head. "I end my turn."

The man drew another card from the center deck and tossed it down, revealing it to be a 5, making his score now 12.

"Slayer" carefully considered the remaining three cards in his hand. "I needed to have a little chat with you and I knew I couldn't just knock on your door. Besides, Brejik was already dead. No harm, no foul."

Nic shook his head again. Such little regard for a person'a dignity didn't sit right with him.

"So what do you need to tell me so badly?" Nic asked.

"You're an impatient little womp rat, aren't ya?" the man asked, before laying a +3 on the table, upping his score to 15.

"I guess you've earned a little more explanation, seeing as how you agreed to the game. I'll end my turn. Go ahead and search your little cards while I give it to you."

Nic drew from the center deck again and laid down the next card. It was a 5, upping him to 15.

"Based on your swoop performance, you seem like someone who can get things done," the man explained. "That's just the kind of person I'm looking for."

Nic threw down his +3 card, beating the man's score and soaring his up to 18.

"Whatever you need me for, if it's more nailing people to walls, I'm not interested," Nic replied. "I end my turn."

"Oh...so, a way off of Taris doesn't interest you?" the man asked.

Nic's face snapped to face the man's, which was smiling at him.

"That's what I thought," he said. "You need a way off. I know a way."

The man drew from the center and threw the next card down. It was a 6.

Nic's heart skipped a beat. That increased his score to 21! He busted!

Then the man laid down a -2 card from his hand, leveling his score at 19.

The man chuckled, thumbing the last card in his hand. "You know what? I think I'll Stand at that."

Nic cursed in his head. It was a good strategy. Though the man's set was now over, the only way Nic could win is if he could score higher, a perfect 20.

His hand threatening to shake, Nic drew from the center again and laid it down, all his hopes resting on whatever was on the other side.

A 4 was on the other side, busting him at a score of 22.

"Whoops," the man taunted. "You're supposed to score higher than me, kid, but not that much higher."

But Nic couldn't believe his luck. He looked up to the man, smiled, and threw down his -2 card.

A perfect 20.

Victory.

"Now, about that name," Nic demanded.

The man shook his head but was still smiling, tossing his final card aside. "I guess you know you're way around more than a swoop bike. I give credit where credit is due and, contrary to what you think, I'm also a man of my word."

The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His face was now out of the shadows, revealing the hard, full, angular face of Mr. Big Gun.

"My name's Canderous Ordo," the man said. "I work for Davik Kang and the Exchange."

Nic had heard of the Exchange before and held no love for it.

"You're muscle working for criminals. I should have known." Nic said, crossing his arms.

Canderous chuckled, pulled a cigar from his vest and lit the tip, taking a good drag.

"Call it what you will. It's a cushier deal than anything else you're gonna find on this backwater rock," he said, blowing a puff of smoke. "Three squares a day, room and board and an endless supply of heads that need knocking together. I have nothng better to do. Mandalorian mercs like me are in high demand."

_Mandalorian?_ Nic thought. _That explains the note_.

Canderous took another drag and let the smoke slowly seep out of his mouth. "But lately, Davik hasn't been paying me what he promised. I don't like being cheated. It's time for me to break this Sith quarantine and get off this planet."

Nic scoffed. "Right, just that simple. How are you gonna pull that off?"

Canderous pointed the cigar squarely at Nic. "That's where you come in."

* * *

**Thanks so much, guys, for staying with this story! Hope you liked the introduction of Canderous and the Pazaak game. I wanted a more interesting meeting than the game provided for a character like Canderous. Let me know with a review of what you thought, or any suggestion for the future!**

**Cheers!**

**-LCB**


	15. Chapter 15: Ain't No Trust for the Wary

**A/N: I am sooooooooooooooo sorry that this is coming so late, my awesome readers. Please tell me you can forgive me as I try to navigate life and keep updating the story.**

**Also, I would appreciate any feedback you can give me. Sometimes I worry I'm making the story too cerebral and not authentic enough. Let me know what you think.**

**As always, I do not own KOTOR, merely the disc in my Xbox's tray.**

* * *

_"It's time for me to break this Sith quarantine and get off this planet," Canderous said._

_"Right. Just that simple," Nic scoffed. "How are you gonna pull that off?"_

_"That's where you come in," Canderous said. "If you can handle a swoop, you should handle breaking into a tiny, little Sith Base."_

Hot sparks exploded by Nic's face as his back hugged the wall, his only protection against a volley of deadly blaster fire.

"Tiny, little Sith base, my ass," Nic grumbled.

"We need to find a way through!" Carth shouted over the din of fire. "We're never gonna find those Sith launch codes as long as they keep us pinned here. Reinforcements could come at any time and surround us!"

The blaster fire stopped. Nic took a breath and stuck his head around the corner, quickly retreating again in the wake of another round of fire.

"Four troops. Three sentry droids," Nic shouted to his friend.

Carth touched his ear. "We got a full squad down the hall, people. Bastila, I need you to deflect their fire while Zaalbar charges. Mission, Nic and I will approach from behind you and keep them busy!"

"As you wish, Carth," Bastila's voice rang out over the comm.

Nic looked over to the corner directly across from them at the other three members of their group, poised and ready to attack. The metal hallway between them was the only avenue deeper into the Sith base, where hopefully they would find where the launch codes were stored.

The twin canary-yellow blades of Bastila's lightsaber cracked to life and she charged down the hall, fluidly swinging her weapon, sending enemy blaster bolts flying anywhere but her person.

Zaalbar roared and charged right behind her. His great, thundering footsteps smashed against the metal floor. Seeing the Wookiee, the Sith troopers began slowly backpedaling where they stood.

The sentry droids, unfortunately, weren't programmed with fear. They were the first to go as Bastila cut through one and Zaalbar shot a muscular paw through the chest of another, tossing it aside like it was nothing.

"Go! Go! Go!" Carth shouted as he, Nic and Mission rounded their corners, firing and advancing down the sides of the hall.

Faced with a skilled Jedi, a menacing Wookiee, and three more blasters worth of fire, the rest of the squad didn't last another minute and were quickly cut down.

"Everyone alright?" Carth asked as the group formed up again.

"I'm fine, Carth," Bastila said.

"All good," Mission chimed in.

"Same here," Nic said.

Zaalbar growled in agreement.

A small astromech droid gave its own whistle of affirmation.

Nic turned to the little droid, which looked like a saucer with legs.

"I guess that's droid for 'Yes,'" he said.

"Not bad," Carth nodded approvingly, looking ahead the large metal door they now stood in front of. "We're cutting through this base pretty well."

"Considering the fact that we shouldn't even be here," Bastila added.

Nic shook his head and crossed his arms. "Here we go again," he grumbled.

"We are currently in a Sith base on a planet currently quarantined by the Sith, those whom we are trying to avoid," Bastila went on. "And we are here based on the request of a untrustworthy mercenary working for a criminal organization!"

Bastila snapped her lightsaber closed. "Am I to just stand here and accept this while you plunge us into oblivion, Nic?"

"I'm sorry, do you have any better ideas, Your Worship?" Nic snarled, stepping toward her.

"I just wished to know if we were planning on leaping down any garbage disposals while we were at it?" Bastila sarcastically asked.

"You're more than welcome to go jump down one yourself, missy," Nic practically growled. "Then I wouldn't have to hear your shrill complaints every five minutes."

"Hey, hey, reel it in! This isn't the time!" Carth barked.

As if on cue, two sharp clicks hissed behind the group. They turned to see two turrets descend from the ceiling above the door and open fire.

Not everyone had enough time to react.

A bolt found its way into Zaalbar's shoulder. He fell on his back as Bastila's saber sprang to life again.

While the others dove to the floor and went for their blasters, Bastila concentrated her focus, pulled her saber back and launched it into a sideways spin.

Guided by the Force, the saber boomeranged through the air, cutting both turrets in half in one pass. They were just smoking, fizzling wrecks now.

Bastila deftly caught her weapon as it returned to her hand.

"Big Z!" Mission shouted, running over to her friend. The Wookiee was growling in pain but he looked alright. He was already trying to get himself back up but his left arm was hurt.

"I've got a medpack," Nic said, kneeling down by the Wookiee and pulling out the syringe.

"This is gonna hurt before it gets better, buddy," Nic warned him. "You ready?"

The Wookiee growled roughly. Nic jabbed the syringe into his friend's arm and was rewarded by a Wookiee roar.

"He's gonna need a minute," Nic said as he pulled the medpack out, stood and shook his head. His ears were ringing from that roar.

"T3," Nic said, walking up to the little droid. "You think you can get us through this door to whatever's on the other side?"

The little droid gave an excited _beep-tweedloo-weep_ and whirred over to the door and plugged its scomp link into the door's panel, immediately getting to work. Nic smiled. Ever since they had picked up the little T3-M4 unit under Canderous' instruction, it had proven nothing but useful. Hell, the little guy had been the reason they broke into the Sith base in the first place.

Bastila fumed. "And what will be on the other side of that door, Nic? A new array of enemy fire for us to run into? More chances to be shot like Zaalbar?"

Nic pressed his lips together so hard, he thought they might start to bleed. He could feel anger bubbling in his stomach, anger over Zaalbar getting hurt, anger over coming through another hall of this kriffing base and still not finding the launch codes.

Anger over Bastila's constant criticism, yet she didn't let up.

"You are on the verge of sacrificing this mission!" She practically spat. "I certainly hope you're proud of yourself when we're all dead!"

"Bastila! That's going too far! We could've never seen those turrets coming!" Carth shouted.

"THAT'S. IT." Nic bellowed.

That made everyone shut right up.

Nic spun on his heel, looking straight at Bastila.

"I'm sacrificing this mission, Bastila? Last time I checked, you owe us your life after rescuing you from the Vulkars, yet you've done nothing but complain ever since we busted you out!"

Carth could understand Nic's anger, but he knew he needed to do something to defuse his friend now.

"Nic, I know you're mad, but she doesn't..."

"I don't give two kriffs, Carth!" Nic wheeled on his friend before turning back to Bastila. "Is this just some pride trip for you, Miss Ice Queen? You need us to grind ourselves into the dirt so you can get off Taris back to a hero's welcome with your little Jedi friends?!"

"I was aware of my surroundings during my entire capture!" Bastila yelled back. "I was working from the inside and would have freed myself eventually!"

"And while you were pretending to nap, Bastila, people were DYING!" Nic shouted right in front of her face.

Bastila was shocked into silence. Though anger still flashed in her face, she had no idea how to respond.

"Let me ask you one question, Bastila," Nic said, softer but no less menacing.

"Nic, you've said your peace," Carth said. "Now isn't the time..."

"Like kriff it isn't!" Nic said before turning back to Bastila.

"Trask Ulgo, Bastila," he said, staring her down. "Does that name ring any bells for you?"

Bastila just stared ahead at Nic, finding herself slightly afraid of this new outburst from Nic, though she was loathe to show it.

"I-I don't..."

"I didn't think so, us soldiers being just your pawns, anyway," Nic spat. "He was my bunk mate on the Endar Spire. We ran through that entire ship looking for you, while it was coming apart. He gave his life fending off a Dark Jedi so that I could get to Carth!"

Again, there was utter silence in the hall. Bastila still could not bring herself to utter a word as the gravity of Nic's words began to sink in.

"So many people gave their lives in the name of saving you, Bastila. More than you know," Nic said, leaning in mere inches from her face.

"Don't you dare lecture me about sacrifice," Nic threatened. "I'm a soldier of the Republic and I'll do my duty to help get you off this planet. That includes working with any lead we can find, regardless of how you feel about it."

At that, the metal door T3 was working on whooshed open behind them. Nic turned to see the opening and then back to Bastila.

"I'll help you, but once we're all off this rock, I'm looking forward to putting a whole galaxy between you and I."

Nic turned and walked straight ahead into the room.

Bastila was almost stiff as a board and still speechless. She had no retort. What could she say?

Mission's eyes were the size of dinner plates. She knew Nic was getting annoyed by Bastila, but even she didn't know about the ship he and Carth had been on. Clearly, there was more to everything she didn't know yet.

Carth sighed. He knew Nic needed time to vent, but the last thing they needed to be doing right now was fighting each other in a base full of Sith.

"How you holding up, big guy?" Carth asked Zaalbar.

The Wookiee grunted and got up, but his arm hung a little limper than normal.

As the three walked up to the now-frozen Bastila, Carth touched her shoulder, awakening her from her thoughts.

"Hey, let's go," he whispered, nodding to her.

Bastila looked down and nodded back, still feeling as though the world around her was still a bit fuzzy.

"Yes," was all she mustered.

She briskly walked through the door ahead of them, eager to move on with the mission.

Just as she walked through the door, though, it smashed shut behind her, trapping the other three on the other side.

"What the kriff?" Carth said, running forward, banging on the door. "Bastila, what happened?"

But Carth's voice never permeated the cold steel of the door.

Bastila and Nic wheeled around to face the door. It appeared they were now trapped in a large, circular metal room.

"What the kriff happened?" Nic asked. "Why did it close?"

"I...I don't know," Bastila answered.

"The Sith must have found us," Nic cursed, getting flustered over the stead-ly degrading state of the mission. "Maybe they're locking us dow-"

Nic never finished his sentence. He felt his throat nearly clamp shut. He dropped his blaster. He was choking! But, how?!

"Ack...aggh..." He spluttered.

Bastila wheeled around. Shock shone in her eyes as a deep, menacing voice rang out in the room.

"Indeed the Sith have found you. Now, don't take another step."

A Sith apprentice adorned in shining combat armor stepped out of the shadows, one of his hands outstretched toward Nic.

Now Bastila understood. This denizen of the Dark Side was Force Choking Nic!

"Let him go! He's of no consequence to you!" She yelled out, trying to pick at the Apprentice's hubris.

"Take one more step and I'll crush his throat with a thought!" he barked out.

Nic was clawing at his throat, his face turning a shade of blue. His vision was beginning to blur. His heart was thundering in his chest.

He couldn't breathe!

"You two are strong in the Force...I can sense it," the Apprentice said, fixing them both with a curious stare.

"Who would have thought there would be people like you on a backwater planet like this," he mused, chuckling darkly.

"Release him and face me!" Bastila cried out again. "This is your final warning!"

The Apprentice snapped his head to meet hers. Nic's eyes rolled up into his head.

"Are you threatening me, Jedi drone? If you want your pet so much, then you can have him!"

With a mighty Force Push, the Apprentice launched Nic's body through the air straight for Bastila.

The Jedi woman had no choice. Faced with protecting Nic, she immediately extinguished her lightsaber and tried to catch him, but he plowed right into her, knocking her flat. The back of her head snapped down on the hard, metal floor.

Nic struggled to brace himself up on all fours, coughing and hacking now that his airway was clear again. Stars spun around his eyes. He could almost feel the walls closing in but he fought them back. He could not pass out now.

He looked to Bastila, who was moaning on the ground.

"Bas...Bastila," he croaked. "You OK?"

She groaned again as her head lolled to her side.

Nic didn't see any blood, though clearly she had been injured when the Sith had tossed him right at her.

At the moment, though, Nic had a bigger problem.

"Pathetic," the Apprentice insulted. "Jedi looking for an escape past the quarantine, no doubt. I assume you were looking for the launch codes in here? I can read it in your mind. I just happen to be guarding them myself."

Nic turned to the man and his blood ran cold.

That face.

It couldn't be.

"You..." Nic said, almost breathless. "You were on the Endar Spire."

The Apprentice fixed Nic with squinted eyes, until a memory dawned on him.

"Ah, yes, I thought you looked familiar. Another Republic soldier ripe for the slaughter."

Nic stood.

"You...you killed Trask!" He cried out.

The Apprentice merely arched an eyebrow.

"Who?" he asked, indifferent.

There was no mistaking that face. Nic would know it from anywhere.

A rage that had long been pushed back roared to the surface, blaring in Nic's mind until all he heard was one thought.

_This is for you, Trask._

Nic drew his vibroblade and dashed forward, sprinting and bringing his blade down right on the Apprentice's head. It smashed into the Sith's own blade. The Sith's eyes widened in surprise at the ferocity of Nic's attack.

His face contorted into a wicked smile.

"Let it begin," the Apprentice mused.

Nic pushed off from the Sith and swung again at his neck, a move the Sith parried away before countering with his own slash at Nic's chest, a move Nic had to jump back to escape getting disembowled.

"I'll kill you!" Nic screamed as he came back swinging at the Sith. Every strike of his was met with a block from the Apprentice.

"You are no Jedi," the Sith breathed between swings. "You fight with too much anger. It's almost...refreshing."

"Shut up!" Nic yelled.

He swung once more at the Sith's head. The Apprentice brought up his blade and locked it with Nic's. He then shot his free hand out, sending another Push squarely into Nic's chest, sending him flying back. Nic's blade popped out of his hand as he hit the hard floor.

Nic rolled onto his side as pain shot through ever joint in his body. The Sith calmly walked until he stood over his now incapacitated prey.

"You were fun, little worm, but now your time has come," he spat, bringing his blade up with both hands, ready to stab down for the killing blow.

At least until a canary-yellow lightsaber soared right into his chest.

The Sith froze, dropping his blade and crumpling to the floor, never to get up again.

Nic took a deep breath and blew it out, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.

"Nic! Nic! Are you alright?!"

Nic opened his eyes again to see the worried face of Bastila right over his.

"Thank the Force," she breathed.

Nic offered a smile to her.

"No. Thank you."

"Nic! Bastila!"

The faces of Carth, Mission and Zaalbar soon surrounded the two.

"T3 just got us through the door again," Carth said hurriedly. "We heard crashes from the other side. Are you guys OK?"

Nic laughed fom where he lay.

"Never better, Carth," he said. "And for the cherry on top, I think we just found what we came for."

* * *

**A/N: So? How was that, eh? I hope you all liked it! I'll see you next time! Cheers! -LCB**


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